Sleeper in the Cave
by Kazaera
Summary: Adryn has no idea what she's doing in this land with oversized wildlife, natives who consider giant fleas good forms of transport and Imperial spymasters so skooma-addled they think she's spy material, but she has every intention of surviving the stupidity around her. However, she doesn't know that by setting foot on the island she's set into motion events that can't be stopped...
1. Adryn's arrival in Morrowind

**Full summary because I had to shorten it:** Adryn really has no idea what she's doing on this land with oversized wildlife, natives who think giant fleas are good forms of transport, and Imperial spymasters so skooma-addled they think she's spy material, but she has every intention of surviving the rampant idiocy of everyone around her. However, she doesn't know that by setting foot on the island she's set into motion events that cannot be stopped...**  
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**Notes:** This is my epic Morrowind novelization of epic, aka WiP that will never, ever be completed. However, I have about 50k words of it written right now and will probably update every few weeks until I reach the end of the pre-written material, at which point updates will be glacial.

**Warnings:** None for this chapter.

oOoOo

I was dreaming.

Most people cannot tell when they are dreaming, and I admit I am usually inexcusably lax when it comes to this matter as well. Why, just a few weeks ago I had dreamt of being Archmage of the Mages' Guild and ordering all my underlings to pick cats from trees when they were ripe because we needed new apprentices... and not realised the impossible nature of it all until after I'd woken up. Shameful! However, this time there were several things that led me to cleverly deduce I was, in fact, asleep and my current situation a product of my subconscious mind.

First of all, I was in the middle of a mountain range, looking at a large volcano. The ground was grey and ashy, the only vegetation twisted trees, black branches grasping at the sky. Lava pools dotted the landscape, giving the whole scene an eerie glow.

Now, although it all looked rather fantastic I was perfectly happy to accept this place might exist somewhere, but my presence in it was another matter. I should not be seeing anything except my own personal cell in the Imperial City prison, and very occasionally my jailer - much though I'd rather forget _that_ sight. Let me just say the sloppy gruel I was served twice a day, with its unidentifiable lumps and disturbing tendency to seem to move every time I looked away, was infinitely more attractive and charismatic. And although I'd told him I'd appreciate a change of decor, I'd more been thinking of wallpaper and maybe a potted plant.

Secondly, the sky was red. And by that I don't mean some poetic exaggeration of a sunset - the entire sky was a bright, vivid, uniform crimson. It looked as if someone had spilled a sea of blood among the stars. Wisps of grey clouds raced across it, forming strange patterns. For a moment, I thought I saw a face, screaming...

Apparently, I'd been so occupied keeping my track of my conscious thoughts that I'd sorely neglected my unconscious. If it was going to throw blood skies and clouds in agony at me, we were definitely going to have to have a talk.

Lastly...

I looked down. Several hundred feet below me, a tree looked as if it was about to rip itself out of the ground and hunt unwary passersby for dinner.

If I could fly, I really thought I would have noticed that earlier.

"You know," I said out loud, "If I'm going to dream, I would like to dream about something _pleasant._ Something like... Summerset Isle." I'd seen a drawing of it in a book once and been struck by the beauty. "Although I suppose it must be full of snooty Altmer. Or I could dream about managing a daring escape from prison underneath the guards' noses. Or... I know! A secret tunnel built into my cell and a bunch of... Blades, yes, Blades need to use it, and I escape behind them." That seemed the right sort of incredibly improbable fantasy for a dream.

I closed my eyes, focussed on the image of the wall of my cell swinging back and a group of Blades and... why not, if you're going to fantasise you might as well do it properly... the Emperor dashing through it. Opened them again.

Volcano.

I shook my head at it sadly. "This really won't do, you know. You seem to be misunderstanding something here - I'm the one that makes the rules. I'm sure you're a very nice volcano, but I'd like to see daring escapes. This is my dream and I don't hold with rebellion."

"_Your dream?_"

I shrieked.

The voice was just a sibilant whisper, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, seemed to be composed of thousands of voices all layered on top of each other, and even after it had finished speaking the echoes lingered in the air.

"_This is not your dream, foolish child. I am the one that has brought you here and you. Will. Listen._" The voice kept growing, filling the air like a gong. I clapped my hands over my ears, but to my horror it didn't do anything - it was as if the sound was coming from inside my head.

"I'm listening! I'm listening!" I screamed. My voice sounded tinny and hollow compared to the... other one.

"_Good._" The voice paused for a moment. My panting breath echoed loudly in the stillness.

"Wake up!" Another voice, this one, as hollow as mine - a pebble compared to an avalanche, impossible to focus on.

"_The preparations are complete. You have been taken from the Imperial City, to the east, as it should be. Fear not, for I am watchful._" I could barely think, but managed to dimly wonder how exactly that last sentence was supposed to make me feel _less_ afraid. "_Soon, you will arrive. Soon, you will fulfil your promise._"

That was too much. "What promise?" I shouted, hands dropping from my head to ball into fists at my side. "I haven't promised you anything! I don't make promises as a matter of principle, it can't possibly have been me who, who did whatever you're talking about you have the wrong person-"

"_It has already begun._" Despite the sheer overpowering alien nature of the voice, I could tell there was a strange note of satisfaction in it.

A soft crackling noise made me glance down - then I stared in horror. My hands were changing. The very bones were shifting, cracking and then rehealing as they grew in ways nature had never meant them to. My skin was writhing, puffing outwards and its colour was slowly, ever-so-slowly growing lighter, yellowish, metallic-

"You're dreaming, wake-"

"_Wake. Up._"

I came awake with a start, still caught in the dreamworld. That changed when I jerked myself into a sitting position and-

"Ow!"

I let myself fall back onto the floor with a groan and rubbed my head with one hand - although on the whole stars were preferable to volcanoes, I'd prefer not to see either when I closed my eyes. Apparently, my cell had suddenly gained a very low ceiling.

"Typical. Sleeps through the entire voyage, including the storm last night where I thought the ship was about to go under, and then decides to get up the precise instant I'm leaning over her. Just typical." Or maybe it wasn't the ceiling I'd cracked my head against.

Or, for that matter, my cell I was in.

"Sorry about that," I croaked. My throat felt as though I had screamed myself hoarse.

"You almost broke my _nose,_" the voice complained. Dimly, I recognised that it was the second voice from the... dream. "Do you know how long it took me to get it into this shape? Just crooked enough to be mysterious and give me the look of a proper, dashing rogue straight out of the romance novels without being disfiguring. You almost ruined it!"

"Are you saying," I asked weakly, "that you break your nose regularly? For the sake of... attracting ladies?"

"And now you're insinuating I'm crazy enough to break my nose on purpose!" A pause. "I got a friend to do it."

The stars were gone, so I felt quite justified in carefully opening an eye and gauging the appearance of my new, eccentric, roommate. Immediately after, I opened the other one to stare.

The man – no, the mer – was leaning against a wall. His head was bald and covered in tattoos, his nose slightly crooked without being off-putting, giving him – I admit – a rather debonair look, even if the rough clothes detracted from it somewhat. His eyes-

And here came the reason I was staring. His eyes were as red and his skin as grey as my own.

Fragmented images from the nightmare swirled back into my mind and I stopped gawking in order to chance a quick glance down at myself. Yes, my skin was still grey, my hands the same shape they'd always been. Gawking could resume presently.

"Your judgement of the matter, m'lady?" the other dark elf said, and I realised he thought I'd been staring at his nose.

"It suits you," I told him quickly. Considering how fed up I'd always become when people stared at me, I didn't want to do the same to anyone else. Especially considering he was the same race I saw every time I looked in the mirror, even if I didn't often see it outside of one. How embarrassing! "Good look, although the clothes don't exactly scream 'storybook hero'. And if you really got someone to break your nose for it, you're mad."

"Unfortunately, prisoners have never been given the finest selection of clothing. It's always 'sack, sack with holes or sack with more holes – take your pick.' Terrible shame, that," he answered, his face falling mournfully. "And as for the nose, well... I did – in a way. A friend certainly did break my nose, and he informed me later that I had been asking for it. Namely, by saying what I said about his sister, and by being too drunk to dodge."

"What you said about his sister? If it was some slander, I may have to stop speaking to you," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"I was perfectly courteous!" he protested. "Well, perhaps a bit too courteous, if you understand what I mean. My friend has always been a bit... overprotective, and when I expressed interest..."

"Say no more." I could imagine the scene very clearly in my mind's eye, and suddenly had a difficult time suppressing laughter.

"Indeed, I shall stop dwelling on such past flames and give proper attention to the present one." He bowed, a gesture that looked particularly ridiculous given his clothes, my clothes (in no better condition than his) and our surroundings, which, although not my cell, were just as bare of any amenities - I sadly noted the lack of wallpaper and potted plant. I'd really wanted that potted plant. "My name is Jiub. What would yours be, oh fair lady Nosebreaker?"

"Adryn. And I didn't break your nose!" I protested.

"Came very close, if my chin hadn't been in the way... anyway," Jiub sighed, the comedic manner dropping away, making him look much older and more tired. "We should be reaching Morrowind soon. I'm sure they'll let us go."

It was my second big shock in as many minutes. "Excuse me, did you just say _Morrowind?_"

"Well, obviously, since that's where the ship's bound for – oh wait, you've been asleep since before you boarded, haven't you?"

"There may have been some magic involved," I said defensively.

"Oh, I was sure that there was magic involved. Or possibly that you were on the brink of death. We've been travelling for three days now, you see."

The news that I'd slept for three days – at least – wasn't nearly as disturbing as it should have been; I suppose three shocks in as many minutes were where my mind went on strike.

"Anyway, yes. This ship is headed for Morrowind."

Morrowind. I stared – past Jiub this time. It was a place I knew next to nothing about. I knew it was in the far north-east of the Empire, one of the remotest provinces. And, of course, I knew one other thing, one that had always fascinated me deeply – it was the home of the dark elves.

I hadn't the faintest idea why I was on a ship – and now that Jiub had told me, I realised the shape of the room we were in and the rocking motion should have told me immediately that was where I was; I blamed grogginess from the long sleep – heading to Morrowind of all places.

Heading east.

I shivered as the words from my dream floated to the top of my mind... _you have been taken to the east. You will fulfill your promise._ then shook my head, trying to drive them out of my thoughts. It wouldn't matter at all where we were heading, I told myself. One Imperial prison was much like another, after all, and as for the dream? I'd probably just reacted badly to the magic they'd used to induce sleep.

_It has already begun..._

Just my imagination, I told myself firmly.

oOoOo

We chatted for a while, Jiub dropping the sombre tone with alarming speed. I wasn't sure whether it was me or himself he was trying to cheer up with his exaggerated, foppish manner. If it was me, it worked splendidly. I was actually giggling, the dream almost entirely forgotten when Jiub shushed me, warning that the guard was coming.

The guard came to see us sitting on the floor side-by-side in perfect silence, faces perfectly composed as we stared back at him. He muttered something that sounded like "crazy Dunmer", then barked at me to come with him.

Only me, apparently; I looked helplessly towards Jiub, who just shrugged, the message 'what can you do' clearly evident in his expression. Then I hurried after the guard.

He shooed me through the hold and finally up onto the deck of the ship after saying, "let's keep this as civil as possible." I'm not entirely sure why the warning. What was he expecting me to do – sit down on the floor and refuse to go a step further? Because an Imperial prison ship is such a wonderfully pleasant place to be, after all. They'll start renting them out as cruise ships for the nobility in Imperial City any day now, I'm sure. Or maybe attack him with my bare hands?

Needless to say, the proceedings were perfectly civil on my side of things. Really, if anyone needed the reminder he did – apparently basic politeness was beyond him. Too much for his already overworked little brain, I conjectured.

The guard didn't follow me outside and I took a moment to catch my breath – I was really in terrible shape, and the fact that it was much, much warmer than I was used to didn't help – and look around.

I stared.

The ship was docked at a small village, consisting of some houses built in typical Imperial fashion but mainly shacks that looked as if they were about to sink into the surrounding swamp. The entire coast seemed to be swamp, in fact, turning into low hills further inland. It seemed the land rose even further; in the distance, I thought I could make out a mountain range. The swamp was filled with greenery, all of it entirely unfamiliar to me. The trees were alien, the flowers were alien, even the mushrooms were alien. (Yes, I am sure. They were quite a distance away, it is true, but the mushrooms I was used to don't _glow._) The air was filled with strange sounds – no bird-calls, but chittering and clicking and strange hoots.

Oh, and there was a giant flea standing just past the village.

I looked at it for a moment, then decided it was a hallucination brought on by too much sleep.

Someone cleared their throat. I jumped.

Apparently, I couldn't be trusted to walk two feet by myself; here was yet another guard. And down there on the dock was a third. Wonderful.

I endured the rat-race of being escorted from guard to guard and finally made my way through the door of what Guard Number Two had called the "census office". (Guard Number Three had merely wanted to know where I was from. Frankly, if the people supposedly in charge of registering arrivals don't even know where the ships coming in are from, this place is in deep trouble.)

Inside, I was greeted with another guard and – for a change – a bureaucrat. Now, some people might be puzzled that I can recognise bureaucrats on sight. Personally, I find it very easy. There is a certain aura bureaucrats have, one that seems to incite a mixture of suicidal and homicidal impulses in those forced to be around them – I know it well.

The bureaucrat, an elderly Breton, started talking. "Ah yes, we've been expecting you."

Now that was worrisome. Expecting me? Since when was I important enough that anyone should be expecting me? _I'd_ been expecting something more on the lines of "I have no idea who you are or what you did and I don't particularly care. Off to X Imperial prison with you."

"My name is Socucius Ergalla-" correction, an elderly Breton with delusions of being Imperial. Very sad. "-and I am in charge of the Census and Excise office here in Seyda Neen. Now, you'll have to be recorded before you're officially released."

"Wait. Released?" I asked.

Ergalla looked distinctly annoyed at having been interrupted. "Yes. Released. As I was saying, we prefer to record all incoming individuals to this island and-"

"You mean you're just _letting me go_?"

"I should have thought that would be obvious," he snapped, and unrolled a piece of paper. "I have the orders right here. 'By order of Emperor Uriel Septim VII, prisoner 103841's sentence is to be changed from ten years' imprisonment to exile in the province of Morrowind.' Now if you would let me continue..."

I shut up, not in order to comply with his instructions but because I found myself speechless.

The Empire _doesn't_ just shoo prisoners out the door with a "so sorry for the trouble, here, have fun in your new home." And what was this about 'by order of the Emperor'? I dearly hoped that that was some kind of bureaucratic formality, because although I had no idea why the Emperor himself might take an interest in me, one thing I was sure of – it couldn't possibly be a good thing.

"Anyway. What is your name?"

"Adryn," I said for the second time that day.

Ergalla cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. "Just 'Adryn'? No family name?"

"No," I snapped.

"Hmm. Interesting." He picked scribbled something on a sheet of paper. "Your place of origin?"

"Do you mean the place I grew up in, the place I spent most of my adult life or the place I was living in last?" I asked.

He sighed deeply. "Origin," he repeated, as if that should make everything obvious.

"Try 'birthplace' if that's too complicated for you," the guard threw in.

I glared at him. Having my intelligence insulted by an Imperial guard, how low had I fallen? It was an honest bit of ambiguity, even if I was a little snide about it.

"In that case, Daggerfall." My tone was distinctly frosty.

"Really? I'd have said you have a bit of a Skyrim accent about you. It's in the vowels, you know." Much to my dismay, the guard had apparently decided to be talkative.

"Look, if you ask for birthplace I'll give you my birthplace," I said, utterly exasperated. "And considering I asked for clarification I would expect that any being more intelligent than pond scum would realise-"

Ergalla cleared his throat without looking up from his papers. "This antagonistic attitude is entirely unnecessary, and is causing an unconscionable delay in processing. Cease it immediately." The guard smirked. I fumed. Quietly. "What is your profession?"

My profession? Well... let's see, what had people called me? Oh yes, there'd been thief, pickpocket, crook, good-for-nothing, 'damned demon of a dark elf'... I rather liked the sound of the last, truth be told. Probably not quite the thing to say if I wanted to stay out of prison, however. And there was one other, more respectable one that would be accurate. One I'd been curious about ever since I was a child, one I'd always worked at and wanted to become even when events forced me into other directions.

"Me? I'm an alchemist."

Ergalla gave me a penetrating look, and for a moment, I thought he would dispute that. But in the end, he simply 'hmm'ed and continued scribbling. The sheet would be full in less than a minute if he continued on that way.

"Would you say you specialise more in the arts of magic, those of combat, or those of stealth and speechcraft?"

"Magic." This was not an entirely honest answer, I admit, as my skills really lay more in the third direction - I could hide well, had a quick tongue and was rather deft at picking pockets and locks. However, I did mention trying to stay _out_ of prison, and I figured telling an Imperial official I was best at stealth was just under telling him I was a thief in terms of 'really really stupid ideas' when it came to that goal. Besides, I did have an interest in and knack for magic even if I was a little rusty.

As for combat? If you gave me a weapon, there was only one thing I could be sure of hitting. My foot.

"Ah yes. Now, what is your preferred weapon, your preferred armour, and what schools of magic do you specialise in?"

I gaped at him. "Excuse me, is all this really necessary?"

Ergalla looked wounded. "Of course it is! In order to allow us to gather data on immigration patterns and facilitate your rehabilitation-"

I blinked. The words he was using seemed to sprout more and more syllables. "How about you give me the forms and let me fill them out? Otherwise we'll be here all day."

He looked distinctly unhappy at that idea, but couldn't seem to think of a reason not to. He handed me the papers with a long-suffering sigh.

I handed them back some time later, now covered with writing, and massaged my hand. Although I could understand that the authorities on this island might want to know whether I was a potential axe-murderer, I remain puzzled as to why they need to know, for instance, precisely how high and far I can jump.

Bureaucracy.

Ergalla took the papers back eagerly, looking over them with a jaundiced eye as if afraid I'd cursed them. After reading through them several times while I stood and fidgeted, he put them down onto the desk and faced me again.

"Very well. One more question if you please." I opened my mouth, prepared to protest – what did they want to know now? My shoe size? I'd just about had it with this "processing" – but Ergalla didn't give me a chance to say a thing.

"The letter that preceded you mentioned you were born under a certain sign. And what would that be?"

Letter? Was this the same letter in which the Emperor personally (possibly) ordered my release? And why on earth did the Empire care about my birth-sign, of all possible things? Unfortunately, Ergalla's expression seemed to promise a quick and messy end if I were to make any more trouble, so instead of making a fuss I just said meekly, "The Lover."

And was immediately reminded why I generally lie and claim to be Lady-born as the guard who was really, really far too gregarious for his own good started fighting a smirk. I shot him a glare that should, by rights, have frozen lava.

It seemed to have some effect; the guard composed himself – with visible effort – and mumbled "Sorry, m'lov- er, m'lady-"

He let out a high-pitched giggle and covered his face with one hand. I huffed. Why oh why could I not have been born one month later? The Lord seemed as if it would be a nice sign to have. Safe. True, all the Lord-born I knew complained about being very sensitive to heat... but I was a dark elf, I was sure I'd manage. Besides, I'd be willing to take on even a sun allergy if it meant not having to listen to any more 'jokes' about 'dark elven promiscuity'... jokes, I should note, so lacking in anything resembling actual humour that even the tavern bards so bad their only pay comes in the form of airborne rotten vegetables would refuse to tell them out of professional integrity. In comparison to that, vampirism doesn't seem half so bad.

Ergalla ignored the guard's antics. "Interesting. Now, before I stamp these papers, make sure this is correct," he said to me.

I frowned – of course it was correct, I was the one who had written it in the first place – but scanned the paper anyway. I was about ready to get this "processing" over with, and judging by his expression, Ergalla was too. And it's a good thing I did; the fool had put my race down as Breton! Breton, I ask you. I don't want to know what low standards the Imperial Legion must have here; anyone who can't tell the difference between a Breton and a dark elf should not be in a position of importance.

He blinked at me owlishly when I pointed this out. "Ah, yes. But you are from High Rock?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Didn't we have this discussion already?"

He took the hint, scribbled something on the paper and handed it back to me. I looked over it suspiciously – maybe he was claiming I was Argonian now or something; I wouldn't put it past him – but everything seemed to be in order.

"All right, is that it?" I said, about to slip the paper into my pocket.

"Wait – we need another copy for our records..."

Suicide was looking more and more appealing.

oOoOo

I slipped through the door and shut it behind me, letting out a deep breath. My mind was devising hellish tortures that would make hardened criminals quake with fear for the person who had invented bureaucracy, generously leaving some for the one who had come up with the triplicate form.

Luckily these particular bureaucrats seemed to have decided that I was harmless and didn't need a guard to go five steps from one office to the other (the guards on the ship could have learned much from them), which left me a bit of time to make my head stop spinning. I walked down the corridor, searching for a chair or a bench in order to get off my feet.

As soon as I looked into the next room, I forgot all about that.

The room was furnished simply, with a table, some rickety-looking chairs I didn't really want to test, a shelf and several baskets in a corner. However, what I was interested in was what was on said table and shelf. Namely the well-polished silverware and expensive-looking liquor – Cyrodiilic brandy, if I judged correctly. Quite practised in such things, I quickly tallied up my estimations of the values of each, adding on a bit as the brandy must have been imported. Then, sure I'd been mistaken, I tallied them up again.

The result was the same: enough money to eat for half a month. And that wasn't even counting the assortment of flasks on the shelf, and the small chest next to them and ye gods, was that a lockpick?

I clenched my fists. Was this some kind of game? A test or something? I grab the things here, they frisk me in the next room and voila, it's prison for you, little thief.

I turned away from the table and stalked towards the door. I hadn't got used to this 'freedom' deal yet (if Ergalla hadn't been lying, but I couldn't imagine it – he seemed stuffy, but not petty and malicious enough for a lie like that), no need to lose it before I'd even started. Better to be poor and free than rich and in prison – or rather, poor and in prison since it wasn't as if they'd let me keep my ill-gotten goods. So leaving everything behind was my best option... turning my back on not just a relatively lucrative but also totally unguarded haul.

I threw open the door and stopped short.

Far from another room with yet another Imperial officer, the door opened into a small, empty courtyard, with another building on one side of it and a tall wall on the other. A tall stone wall with plenty of hand- and footholds for the experienced climber.

In my mind, a plan began to form.

A few minutes later, I was back in the courtyard, now holding a bulging sack. The room behind me was completely bare, even the baskets at the side having been cleaned out. Spying a barrel near the door, I quickly rifled through it and added a greenish, slightly magical-feeling ring to my haul before turning my attention to the wall.

The wall was difficult to climb, especially with my heavy load, but not impossibly so; I silently thanked a childhood spent climbing trees when I reached the top and peered over.

The area just near the base of the wall was deserted, the ground overgrown with thick bushes. I quickly heaved the sack over the top. It disappeared behind a tree with a soft thump. I twisted around to see whether anyone had noticed, lost my balance and fell.

Lying on my back in the courtyard, I decided that a childhood spent climbing trees would probably have been better supplemented by an adulthood also spent climbing trees, or at least sometimes climbing trees. An adulthood spent climbing no trees at all seemed to have left me badly out of practice. I also wished I'd decided to keep the ring on me rather than add it to the sack; in retrospect, I was sure I'd felt healing magic on it and that sounded very good right now.

I got up, wincing, and dusted myself off gingerly. Luckily I seemed to have come away with only bruises.

I wandered out of the courtyard trying not to look innocent. This may sound somewhat counterintuitive, but Imperial guards _expect_ you to look furtive and guilty. To them, an expression of carefree innocence implies that you're hiding something.

Thankfully, the officer in the next room – "Sellus Gravius", Ergalla had called him – seemed decidedly uninterested in my expression, guilty or otherwise. In fact, he didn't register me at all. Instead, he was bent over a pile of paperwork, and the sound of low swearing made me suspect that here was someone who shared my view on bureaucracy and the triplicate form.

It would have made me more charitably inclined towards him, except that he was – as said – an officer of the Imperial legion. I figured the torture was only just.

It was tempting to just leave him to it and slip out the next door, but I suspected that would get me into far more trouble in the long run. So I cleared my throat.

Then coughed.

Then said, "Excuse me."

When I was wondering whether I would have to go over and shake him – always a thing to think twice about with an armed man – he finally looked up and blinked at seeing me standing there.

"Oh, right. You'd be... you'd be... I'm sure I have a letter about you in here. Somewhere." He looked through his pile of documents for a moment, then seemed to give up. "Anyway. Why didn't you say something instead of just standing there?"

Given that I had said something, I thought this accusation was rather unfair, but kept this to myself. Imperial officers can get quite upset when contradicted. Instead, I told him, "Are you Sellus Gravius? If you are, I'm to give you these papers."

"Yes, that's me. Knight Errant of the Imperial Legion – not that that gets me much but paperwork these days." He took the forms I'd painstakingly filled out and glanced over them briefly. I probably could have left them claiming I was Argonian and he wouldn't have noticed. "Yes, this all seems to be in order. Now what was I supposed to do with you again... oh, right!" Apparently, Gravius had found the letter about me. Everyone seemed to have letters regarding me. It was disturbing.

He fished around on his desk and handed me a sealed package. "Take this package to Caius Cosades in Balmora. I don't know where he lives exactly but someone in Balmora should know, so ask around."

"Excuse me, but... Balmora?" I asked, confused.

"Oh, right, you're new. Balmora is a town up north from here, ask in the tradehouse for directions. Or you could take the silt strider. Quite reliable transport for a flea that's as big as a house."

So that hadn't been a hallucination after all. I wasn't sure whether to be happy that my wits weren't entirely addled or terrified that the giant flea did, after all, exist – and was apparently used as _transport?_

"Oh, and take this as well," Gravius continued, dropping a small pouch into my hands. The way it clinked was very, very familiar. "It's your release fee."

I stared. I seemed to be doing a lot of that today, but this definitely warranted it. Getting money from the Imperial Legion? And – I hefted the pouch – a not inconsiderable amount? From the weight, it was probably at least sixty drakes!

"Ah. T-thank you," I stumbled over the words, feeling completely off balance. It was enough to make a girl almost feel guilty about robbing the place.

Almost being the key word here.

"Yes, yes." Gravius had turned his attention back to his paperwork with a sigh. "I'm afraid I can't talk any longer, I really need to get back to this supply request. So if you'd excuse me..."

"Of course." I turned towards the door, then paused. Before, part two of my grand plan had seemed flawless and brilliant. Now, I wasn't so sure about it. But I ploughed ahead with it anyway.

"By the way... is the room back there supposed to be empty like that?"

Gravius' gaze snapped up. For the first time in the whole conversation, his entire attention was fixed on me. "_What_ did you say?"

I shrank back. "The room. Back there. I thought it was odd that it was empty, and, and the chest on the shelf looked as if someone had broken into..." my voice trailed off as Gravius slowly stood up.

"No. That room is not supposed to be empty. That room is supposed to contain our food for the next several days, and the official Legion silverware, and the weekly... liquor... excuse me. I think I need to check on something." And he was gone.

I almost let out a sigh of relief – Gravius' full attention was a disturbing thing to have fixed upon you, and I was left with the distinct impression that this was a very dangerous man. However, dangerous or not he certainly wasn't telepathic, and what I'd done should muddy the waters a bit. I'd heard the guard with Ergalla mention that no one had been in the room since very early in the morning, so that left them with quite a large time frame in which the theft could have taken place. And I should be their last suspect now – after all, hadn't I reported the theft to the guards? And hadn't I left the place empty-handed save for what Gravius had given me?

I strolled out into the sunlight and had to suppress the urge to whistle.

oOoOo

Studying my sack of loot in the bushes, I no longer felt quite so cheerful.

It wasn't that it hadn't survived the fall, which I'd worried about earlier. In fact, the fall had done even less damage than I'd expected; only one flask had broken, and that one had been empty anyway. No, my plan had worked perfectly.

Unfortunately, I'd come to the conclusion that the plan had been slightly short-sighted.

I now had my ill-gotten goods, in a bush outside the Census and Excise office, and myself outside the Census and Excise office, and hopefully not fingered as potentially in possession of said ill-gotten goods. However, now came the question – what did I _do_ with the goods?

It was, after all, broad daylight. There were quite a few people wandering around on the street. Worse yet, there were quite a few guards wandering around on the street. The bush was, thankfully, away from the main bit of traffic and shielded behind several trees, so no one had noticed the dark elf rooting through shrubbery.

Yet.

I couldn't very well grab the sack and walk straight through the village, either to the tradehouse on the other side or (since fencing stolen goods at the tradehouse next to the place I'd stolen them from in the first place wasn't the best of ideas) to the road leading out of the village.

Ordinarily, this turn of events would require waiting until dark and sneaking in to recover the items then. However, part two of my brilliant master plan, looking steadily less brilliant by the minute, meant that the guards would probably have finished figuring out that yes, someone had stolen their food, their silverware _and_ (crime of all crimes!) all their alcohol for that week and would be out in force. Chances were, they'd discover the sack well before nightfall.

Really, my best option was high-tailing it away before Gravius added up a newly released dark elf, a sack placed precisely where someone might throw it from the top of a wall and the possibility of a childhood spent climbing trees and came up with the name Adryn.

Most of me rebelled at the idea. Hadn't I managed to get this far, after all? And besides, this was my first taste of freedom and a new life! It should start on a high note, with me leaving the town with everything and sticking out my tongue at Ergalla and Gravius as I went.

"Stealing from the Imperials, eh?"

The voice behind me made me try to jump a foot and freeze in terror simultaneously, which made for some rather odd movements. In the end, I lost my balance and barely managed to keep myself from pitching face-first into the bush.

Once I was steady on my feet again I turned around, horrified at having been caught. My fear was only lightened slightly when I saw the person behind me wasn't, in fact, an Imperial guard but rather a Bosmer.

"Don't worry. I won't say a word. We all hate them here in town." Slowly, my heart-rate returned to its normal speed. "Me especially, they keep beating me up and stealing my things. Just the other day, they took my ring! It's not worth that much, but it's a family heirloom, one of the only things I've got of them so far away from home, so it's really precious to me."

I fished around in the sack. "Would this be it?" I asked, cutting off the stream of words and handing him the green ring I'd found earlier. I was rewarded by seeing the Bosmer's eyes light up.

"Why, that's it exactly! Thank you so much!" He took the ring eagerly and pressed it to his chest.

Now, lest anyone get the wrong impression I should add that I am not, as a rule, all that altruistic. Especially when it comes to rings with healing magic, given my tendency to attract trouble through no fault of my own. However, I've learned that it pays to keep anyone who can call the guards on you as happy as possible.

"I was afraid I'd never see it again. I won't forget this! I'll put in a good word for you with Arrille at the tradehouse, just you see. And..." the Bosmer looked from me to the sack in the bushes and back again. Clearly, the predicament I was in was becoming clear to him. "I think I have an idea."

A few minutes later, I was strolling across the village to the tradehouse, Fargoth – that was the Bosmer's name – by my side. The sack was thrown carelessly over my shoulder, and Fargoth made sure to mention loudly how very grateful he was for my helping him carry some of his old things over to his good friend Arrille's, he couldn't have managed so much himself...

It would have seemed ridiculous that I, skinny little scarecrow of a dark elf – and we're not known for our upper body strength in the best of times – straight of prison would be engaged for heavy lifting. Luckily, Fargoth was a Bosmer. I'm small for a dark elf, but Fargoth was still a head shorter than me.

The tradehouse was well-furnished, with hangings on the walls and various wares spread out on polished wooden tables and a counter. Several people seemed to be browsing, and there was an Altmer standing behind the counter; I surmised this was Arrille. Fargoth had gone ahead of me when we reached the narrow stairs, and he was now whispering intensely with Arrille. When I arrived, they stopped. Arrille came over to me and winked.

"I hear you're helping Fargoth with his things," he said in a drawl that was definitely not a Summerset accent. "Always told him he was a packrat and that one day that shack of his wouldn't be large enough anymore! Good for him I have a storage room free here, hm? If you follow me there, I'll show you where to put them, and give you some advice on Vvardenfell while you're at it."

"Don't listen to a word he says," a Redguard woman who had been looking at a selection of bows interrupted. "Last time he 'gave some advice', the man actually tried to go rob one of the tombs in the swamp. He ended up getting lost, wandering around after dark trying to find his way back, and finally tripped and broke his leg. And I was the one who had to rescue him." She glared at Arrille.

"Elone, I'm insulted!" Arrille gave a mock gasp. I was suddenly reminded of Jiub, and wondered with a pang what had happened to him. It had looked as though I was the only miraculous releasee. "I'll let you know my advice was fine. It's not my fault the fool decided to interpret 'ancestral tombs' as 'excellent way to make money.' And what about that Redguard girl I helped out a while back? Last I heard she was doing perfectly well."

"Only because I caught her afterwards and explained why everything you'd told her was nonsense. It looks as though I'll have to do the same with this one too." Elone looked at me critically. I stared back, shifting my sack of loot. It was heavy and my arms were getting tired. I decided that if the two of them didn't stop acting as if I was a soulless, mindless automaton I'd brain them both with my illicit gains.

Perhaps she read some of my hostile intentions from my face, because she just sighed and said, "Well, off you go. Drop off... Fargoth's belongings." I had the sudden impression that our little charade hadn't fooled her at all. "Arrille, I'll watch the shop for you. Girl, remember to come speak to me afterwards and I'll set you straight. I'm a scout, it's my job."

"Thank you kindly, Elone. Come, it's-"

"Wait a minute!" Fargoth interrupted. He'd been hovering near the doorway and now stepped forward. "I'll come with you. There are fragile things in there, I have to make sure you don't break them."

A nearby Nord let out a loud, braying laugh. "Fussy Fargoth needs to make sure you put every bleedin' thing down just right. Kid, you picked the wrong person to run errands for - you'll be lucky if you get out before nightfall." He did not seem at all abashed by suddenly being the target of three hostile glares - Fargoth's, Arrille's and Elone's. "If you want a real job, with real pay, come to me afterwards. Name's Hrisskar Flatfoot, I'll be up in the bar."

"As if you're ever not in the bar, drunkard." Elone's tone was waspish. "Girl, don't listen to him, that one's no good through and through."

"Okay, that's it." I said loudly. All people arguing stopped and turned their heads to look at me. I found myself in awe at my apparent skills at crowd control - now if only I could do that on purpose... "My name is Adryn. Not girl, kid, child, or anything like that. Ad. Ryn. It's only two syllables, it's not that difficult. And my arms hurt and I am about to drop this sack and if I am forced to drop it I will use my last strength to aim at one of you lot, so could we save the manly posturing - or womanly posturing," I corrected myself, looking at Elone, "for another time?"

"Girl has spirit. I like that." Hrisskar snickered. I recalled my earlier conversation with Jiub and wondered just how hard I would have to punch him in order to break his nose - and not in a dashing storybook rogue way either.

Arrille coughed. "She does have a point, even if she phrased it a little... interestingly. We all have things we need to be getting back to, so best to get this out of the way. Here, the storage is up these stairs."

Stairs. I looked at them sadly, then promised my aching muscles it would be over soon, gritted my teeth and started walking.

At the top there was, in fact, a small storage room, empty and obviously unused for quite some time.

I let my sack fall to the ground with a sigh. Arrille, then Fargoth entered the room as I shook out my arms, which were informing me that they had got used to lazy lounging about in prison and did not hold with this sort of strenuous activity. Fargoth closed the door behind him carefully, then hopped up to sit on a large crate. I covered my nose when I saw the dust billow up, but he didn't seem to mind.

"There, that should do it," he said. "Now you two can bargain and no one will wonder what's taking so long. After all, Fussy Fargoth needs to have things just right." He grinned wryly.

"Doesn't it bother you?" I asked him.

"Oh, Hrisskar is just a big bully. And besides, I do get a little particular about how I want things. But just a little!" he added hastily. Next to him, Arrille started coughing loudly.

"Dear me, Arrille, that sounds like a nasty cold you're coming down with," I said. "Are you sure you're feeling quite well enough to bargain?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. The dust, is all. Should tidy this room more often. Now," he straightened, his demeanour growing serious, "Fargoth tells me you have items you'd like to sell. Items acquired from a nearby Imperial outpost under, shall we say, a _loose_ interpretation of the law." I nodded, wincing. Two people already who knew of my criminal enterprises, this did not bode well for my future career. "Now although I usually don't look well on such activities, I could make an exception for a clearly good-hearted young lass who's been helping my good friend Fargoth, and one who's been a nuisance to the Imperials up at the Census office instead of any of us townsfolk."

By Arrille's scowl, Fargoth hadn't been exaggerating much when he'd said everyone in town hated the local Imperials. I was beginning to think I could run through the town stark naked at noon and paint 'URIEL SEPTIM IS THE BASTARD SON OF A MONKEY AND A SLOAD WHO COMMITS UNSPEAKABLE ACTS WITH SHEEP' on the walls and none of the citizens would report me.

...not that I was planning on doing this, understand. I mean, I like wearing clothes. Clothes are my close, personal friends. And noon? Not a good time. And, you know, if you're going to go the graffiti route it's best to go all the way - none of that 'unspeakable acts' business.

"...so that should settle it." Oops. Arrille was still talking, and it sounded as if he'd just said something important.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that?"

"I said, I'll probably go to the Census and Excise Office sometime tomorrow, if they don't stop by before then," Arrille repeated patiently. "A Nord sold it to me, big, strong-looking fellow. Kept his hood up, but sounded rather like Hrisskar Flat-foot to me. Wouldn't be the first time he's pulled something like this, and I happen to know he was skulking around town today - probably trying to find Fargoth's stash again."

"Stash?" I asked.

"He seems to think I've got some kind of treasure chest hidden away in the swamp somewhere," Fargoth shrugged. "Honestly, as if I have any valuables left to my name in between Flat-foot and the other soldiers. You saw what happened to my ring." I saw Arrille shoot him a sharp look from the corner of my eye, and suspected this might not be quite accurate. Not that I could particularly blame him; after all, I'd only known him for an hour, if that, and he knew I was a thief. "It does mean he'll probably be trying to poke his nose in here, trying to figure out just what 'belongings' you brought over."

"All the better," Arrille said firmly. "It'll make him look more suspicious. With luck, this will get him out of our hair entirely. And if I take it to Sellus Gravius, he'll feel obliged to cover my losses and pay for the items. A good sort, that Gravius. Pity the others aren't like him. Besides," his tone grew thoughtful, "if this does let us get rid of that Flat-foot we'll most certainly owe you something..."

I shook my head. "All right, I'm confused. What exactly does all this mean?"

"It means, young la- Adryn," he amended at my frosty look, "that I hear you have some goods you wish to sell me."

A classical way to open bargaining. I grinned. "As it so happens, I have... acquired... some items." I started taking things out of the sack. "For instance, this fine set of silverware."

Arrille looked distinctly unimpressed. "Fine? Rather an exaggeration, don't you think? But who knows, maybe someone will be near-sighted enough to believe these don't belong in the nearest junkheap... I'll give you seventy drakes for them."

Did I really look that green?

"Seventy? I'm insulted, truly insulted! Look at this craftsmanship, this polish – and feel how smooth it is, not a dent or a scratch. Seventy, I say! A septim and twenty and no less!"

"One septim and twenty? One hundred and twenty drakes for that measly piece of tin? No dents, I'll give you that, but only because they've all been hammered out. But craftsmanship? Hardly! Eighty drakes and no more!"

And we were off. Bargaining, when you do it right, is as much sport as anything else. Fargoth certainly seemed to think so, at any rate - he listened to us with wide eyes and a delighted grin on his face. When one of us pulled off a particularly clever maneuver, he would break into brief applause.

"Whose side are you on?" Arrille asked him in mock outrage after Fargoth congratulated me on managing to talk him up to a round septim for the silverware.

"I am a neutral observer. I am on no one's side," Fargoth said with an attempt at an air of dignity, one which would have worked better if his feet hadn't been dangling. It all reminded me of watching the traders on market day when I was a little girl...

Well, to make a long story short, after a while we settled on three and a half septims for all my illicitly gotten goods. Arrille looked as if he were rather regretting this agreement, so I decided to cheer him up with some purchases.

Arrille frowned when I suggested going downstairs for the next stage of our bargaining. "That could be a mite difficult... did you even have any money apart from what you st- acquired at the Census office?"

I wasn't sure where this was heading, but my usual reflex when I was asked things like this was to lie, lie and lie some more. Still, I did owe Fargoth and Arrille. "Actually, Sellus Gravius gave me ninety drakes-" I clamped my mouth shut, horrified at myself. Telling them I had money, all right, but why tell them where I'd got it from? Now there'd be questions-

"Oh. You're one of those." Arrille's eyes narrowed, and Fargoth stared at me.

"Those?"

"It started, oh, two or three months ago. Every few weeks, the Imperials release a prisoner from the mainland here. Far as we can tell, they're usually in for minor, or at least not violent, crimes - theft, that sort of thing." I blushed - that example had not been chosen randomly, I knew. "They get given a bit of money, then sent up to Balmora." I flinched. Arrille nodded, looking satisfied. "You too, I take it?"

I nodded, deep in thought.

To be entirely truthful, my first reaction was relief. Now, most people's first reaction to being told they are embroiled in what sounded like some sort of byzantine Imperial scheme where poor innocent... mostly innocent... _not that guilty_ people are moved around like, like one of those stones for the board games people play in the High Rock markets which I never had the patience to sit down and learn - well, anyway, their reaction would not be relief, not if they had any sense. And although the sense thing can be argued on my part, mine usually would not be either.

No, the reason I was relieved was that if I was one of a group, it was highly unlikely the Emperor was, in fact, personally interested in me.

After all, even if the Emperor himself was at the heart of said byzantine Imperial scheme he surely put unimportant work like selecting suitable pawns in the hands of subordinates. Right?

Right?

The Nine save me, I was doomed.

"So," Fargoth said. He'd hopped off the crate to stand next to Arrille. I inched back a bit upon seeing the united front. "I take it you don't care to tell us what's going on?"

All right. That was just too much.

I exploded. "Going on? What in the name of Ysgramor and his Five Hundred makes you think I have any idea what's going on? I woke up this morning on a ship hundreds of miles away from where I went to sleep with no idea how I'd got there or why, nobody's told me _anything_ except 'go here, do that, fill out these forms.' I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm confused, I have no idea what I'm doing here, I've never even set foot on Morrowind before and you ask me what's going on? You, you inbred excuses for cowardly dogs who'd give Alduin indigestion-"

"All right, all right, all right!" Fargoth interrupted me before I could properly get going. "We understand. You don't know what's going on. Er, please calm down. I don't think you're supposed to be able to turn that colour."

_...skin bubbling its hue changing_ it has already begun-

"Or that one, for that matter. Sit down, you've gone all... light grey."

I sat on the proffered crate and tried thinking of... plants. Beautiful, beautiful plants. Flowers. Ferns. Black trees in a volcanic wasteland while- _no_. "Thank you. Um. What were we talking about?"

There was a moment's collective silence.

"...well," Arrille said, "the issue is that we need to make sure you're not seen buying things with more money than you're meant to have. That sort of thing could lead to inconvenient questions, if you get my meaning. I'll sell you what I can, but best for you to get to Balmora and do your shopping there."

I was beginning to wish I could kidnap Arrille and take him with me. He thought of these things called 'consequences'. I'd always had a little trouble with those.

* * *

><p>Downstairs, both Elone and Flat-Foot were gone. Instead, there was a dark elven girl, maybe eight years old, sitting on Arrille's counter. I looked at her curiously. She was the first other dark elf I'd seen since disembarking, which was rather surprising given that this was meant to be their, our, homeland. She was wearing rough clothing so covered in patches of various colours I could hardly tell what its original shade had been and holding a short wooden sword firmly in one hand. Red eyes peered back at me behind messy black hair that had apparently escaped from a rather bedraggled ponytail.<p>

"Are you going to do something evil?" she asked me solemnly.

My mouth opened and shut wordlessly. Maybe it was because it had been a long and confusing day, maybe because I wasn't often accused of being evil by people half my height, but I found myself speechless.

Luckily, Arrille came to the rescue. "Good day, Llavani. I assure you Adryn is not evil. Does Indrele know you're here?"

"Mother is busy. And Miss Elone said she'd give me two whole copper pieces if I stayed and protected your things from evildoers, Uncle Arrille!" Llavani swung her sword, I presumed at an imaginary foe. Arrille ducked. "I dunno what evildoers look like, though, so to be safe I've just been asking everyone. Did I do good?"

Arrille reached over and ruffled her hair. "You did wonderfully, scrib. Why don't you run over to Elone now and tell her your guard duties are no longer needed, and that I'd like to talk to her when she has time."

"And," I threw in, "tell her I happen to know that in Imperial City little girls get _three_ drakes for guard duty."

She grinned at me. "You're all right, _sera._" Then she vanished out the door.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Llavani Rathryon. She's the daughter of one of the commoners around here. Very conscientious lass, but... I'll have to ask Elone just what she was thinking." Arrille shook his head. "Anyway. I think you had some items you wanted to buy?"

"Which is my cue to disappear, I think," Fargoth threw in. "I still have some work to do at home, after all. Arrille, I'll see you tonight. It was nice to meet you, Adryn, and thank you for all your... help. I'm sure you'll do excellently here." He winked at me.

I bade Fargoth farewell and looked around the shop. Honestly, I had to wonder whether there was actually anything there I'd be interested in. I saw a lot of weapons - and not even daggers or anything sensible or easy to use like that, but giant warhammers and blades almost as long as I was tall. I saw heavy metal torture devices, I mean armour, polished so brightly they were almost painful to look at. (As if the possibility of blindness would give me incentive to strap myself into a heat-absorbing death trap heavier than I am.) The only thing that looked remotely useful was a stack of rough woolen clothing in the corner - it looked as if some of it ought to fit reasonably well, and I wasn't in much of a position to be very snobby about clothing. (An understatement. I'd definitely ended up with the 'sack with more holes' of Jiub's explanation of prison garment options.) But apart from that...

Wait. Was that up in the corner of that shelf...

"That's Eldafire's old mortar and pestle, and her vial set," Arrille said, following my line of sight. "Sold it to me a few months back, said her eyesight was getting too bad to keep making potions but it was an excellent set which had served her well all the time she had it. Do you want me to-" he noticed my hungry gaze and amended himself, "I'll just get that down for you, shall I."

Honestly, and despite Arrille now trying to talk it up as the finest alchemical tool which had ever graced Tamriel, it didn't look like much. The mortar was too small to make larger or more complicated potions, battered, some of the surface already worn smooth from repeated use, the vials were milky with age - a far cry from the equipment you see master alchemists or even journeymen use. So it may be difficult to understand exactly why my fingers twitched at the sight.

At least, difficult to understand unless you have ever had the experience of trying to grind wolfsbane petals for an invisibility potion using two smooth rocks because you have nothing else to hand. In the middle of a rainstorm. While the guards the invisibility potion is meant to help you escape from are coming steadily closer. On the other hand, if you have had this experience I believe you will agree (albeit possibly from prison) when I say you never quite view alchemical equipment the same way again.

"So I'd sell it to you for eighty drakes,"Arrille said, finishing up his spiel.

Of course, none of that is reason to act like a fool. Which spending eighty drakes (almost all of the money I was supposed to have at my disposal!) on _that_ would certainly be.

"Eighty? _Eighty?_ You must be joking. You say it's served her well for years - I can certainly see the years part of it! Honestly," I sniffed, "I'm doing you a favour, offering to take this off your hands when you were probably planning to toss it out with the rubbish at the next opportunity since no respectable alchemist would go near it. Half a septim and no more."

"You exaggerate mercilessly - it might be old, but it's still perfectly functionable. How about... one septim, and I'll teach you a Firebite spell as well." That was actually quite a tempting offer. I didn't know one myself, but I knew fire spells could be very useful in a pinch - lighting fires even without flint and tinder, as an emergency replacement for properly cooking, and even for defense. Although to be entirely truthful, I wasn't planning to use it for the last; the first item in my arsenal when it comes to combat is neither spell nor weapon but my legs. Running away at the first sight of trouble has served me well for quite a while now and I wasn't planning on changing that (I personally blame this attitude on an excess of sanity, although some people would dispute that.)

"Ninety drakes for both, and you add in a shirt and a pair of trousers from that stack there," was my counter-offer.

"Done and done." Arrille smiled, satisfied, as I handed over every last drake that Gravius had given me. Usually I'd be a bit more careful about my money, but the weight of my illicitly acquired three hundred fifty more hidden inside my shirt reassured me that I still had enough to be reasonably secure. "Now, the way you construct a Firebite spell is like this..."

It was quite a bit easier to pick up than I was expecting, even though I had relatively little experience with Destruction magic. Arrille shrugged and muttered "Dunmer" when I managed to successfully light a candle on his table on the second try.

I'd just managed to pick a shirt and trousers that looked to fit at least no worse than what I was already wearing (and silently vowed that at the next opportunity, I'd squander some of my hard-earned money on a tailor) when the door creaked open.

"Elone!" Arrille barked. I looked at him in surprise; this was the angriest I'd heard him so far. "Since when does 'I'll keep an eye on things' mean you wander off and leave a little girl to look after things? Llavani's not a lass that goes running off, no, but she's no guard."

Elone raised an eyebrow. "Calm down, will you? I'm sorry for leaving the store unattended - I wouldn't have, but something urgent came up which I had to look into right away. I figured Llavani would look after things for you."

"Look after? The girl is _eight._"

"Eight and probably more careful about who she lets in than I'd be." I remembered being asked whether I was evil and had to choke back a giggle. Elone continued, "It's not as if you get a lot of thieves here, and if something happened Llavani'd raise enough of a fuss that you'd hear it even from upstairs. And nothing happened, did it?"

Arrille seemed to be calming down despite himself. "Still, Elone, whatever your 'urgent business' was, and no doubt you'll be telling me it's yet another secret of yours..."

"No secret this." Elone's voice was grim. "Processus has gone missing. No one's seen him since yesterday evening and I couldn't find him anywhere in town. Some people are searching the surrounding area, I'll join them in a bit. But first..." her gaze fell on me. I crossed my arms in instinctive defensive reaction. (It was a 'what am I going to do with you?' look. I don't like those looks; as previously mentioned I am not a game piece and the only one who ought to be doing anything with me is _me_, thank you very much.)

"Processus gone missing? Don't tell me..." Arrille trailed off, brow furrowed in thought, then noticed where Elone was looking. "Oh, I just finished selling Adryn here some items."

"Not, I note, any weapons or armour," Elone said drily. I stared at her in confusion; I thought the general idea was to make me more, not less, likely to survive.

Arrille shrugged. "Lass didn't seem to want any. Doesn't seem to be a warrior type if you look at her, now does she?" They looked at me. I glared back. "I did talk her into a Firebite spell, though, and was about to have a word with her regarding weaponry."

"Of course you will. After lunch."

"What?" Arrille asked.

An arm snaked its way around my shoulders. I tried to jerk away, but it was holding me too tightly. "Lunch. Arrille, you should be ashamed of yourself. While you've been making the girl pay for your cast-offs and telling her all sorts of nonsense, she's faint with hunger." Elone's voice was coming from right next to my ear. I moved my head as far to the other side as I could.

"My name. Is not. _Girl,_" I muttered between clenched teeth.

"I'll take her outside for some fresh air, get some food into her and try to tell her how things really are."

"And you can stop ignoring me anytime, yes. Oh, and let me go. That too."

Elone ignored me. "I've got food at my place. Come on, let's go."

Now, lest anyone get the wrong impression I should note that ordinarily I defend my personal space with all the force and dedication of a rabid war dog. (Some people would tell you that there are other similarities. This is, of course, a barefaced lie.) Anyone trying to so much as tap my shoulder generally ends up with their fist in my face or, failing that, my teeth in their hand. Someone actually putting their arm around me without me doing my best to remove the offending appendage... remove it from their body, that was... was next to unheard of. However, in this case there was an overriding impulse, one of the few things that would make me put up with such manhandling with only grumbling.

Free food.

More to the point, free food that was hopefully not gruel or at least not mobile gruel after far, far, far too long being forced to subsist on that... that... _substance._ At the moment, I was willing to swear my soul to the Emperor for something that could actually be classified as food without being academically dishonest. Tolerating someone being overly familiar, as long as their hands didn't venture any further down than my shoulders, went only slightly more against my basic nature.

As a result, I only put up a token struggle as I was dragged out of the tradehouse.

oOoOo

Elone's house turned out to be one of the nice-looking thatched houses clustered to the north of the tradehouse. I was glad of it, as most of the other "buildings" in this place - I use the term loosely - looked as though the instant you set foot in them they would collapse on top of you and drown you in the swamp. (Traps set for newcomers, perhaps?) Inside, it was also furnished much as I expected from a Cyrodiilic home. I'd have spent more time studying the surroundings except that my attention got diverted by a truly amazing gift of the gods exuding a heavenly smell-

_Food._

I'm sorry, where was I?

"It's not much, just warmed-up crab chowder from this morning, but I can't afford to spend much more time here and you don't look as if you want to wait much longer," Elone said as she put a steaming bowl of soup and a chunk of bread in front of me.

"Mmfgrmp," I answered. It was meant to be 'thank you', but somehow my mouth had filled itself with soup without my even noticing. Strange how that happens.

Thankfully, Elone didn't take offense at my lack of manners; instead she just grinned and dug into her own portion.

Despite the fact that I ended up taking thirds, Elone and I finished at the same time - her with a somewhat amazed expression on her face. I didn't see what the issue was; time in an Imperial prison teaches you quickly that anything resembling food is to be devoured as quickly as possible before anyone takes it away from you. Or it runs away. (I remembered that gruel.)

"Well, you certainly needed that," Elone said, looking at me critically.

"Thank you very much," I said, comprehensibly this time. "It was delicious." Although honestly, what I was comparing it to was a very, very low bar - I'd almost have called Legionnaire hardtack delicious at that point - but I figured it was more diplomatic not to point that out.

"Almalexia's mercy, she does have manners after all!" I scowled and was about to snap a retort (probably proving her point), but Elone continued with something that made my blood run cold. "Pity she has next to no sense to accompany those, given what I saw from the lighthouse earlier today."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said woodenly.

"Oh? How strange. Then it must have been some other newly-released prisoner who stole everything that wasn't nailed down in the Legion's supply room and tossed it over the wall! Don't worry, I won't tell," she continued, correctly interpreting my expression as 'terrified'. "But you do realise the main reason you got away with it is Fargoth opting to help you? By all rights, you ought to be back in prison right now."

"It may have been slightly short-sighted-" I started.

Elone laughed. I glared at her. "Slightly short-sighted? Girl," seriously, two syllables, _what is so difficult about this,_ "that was one of the stupidest things I've ever seen. Now, I can't say the other ones were particularly clever, but at least none of them decided to start their criminal activities when they hadn't even been officially released yet!"

"Look," I retorted, "I fail to see what business it is of yours anyway, but in any case what's done is done so if you're not going to turn me in-"

"What's done is done, yes." Elone didn't seem inclined to let me finish a single sentence. "Except that I can't help but think that now, after you've successfully robbed the Census and Excise office - thanks more to luck than anything else, I should note - you'll decide to continue on in this manner. And next time, or the time after, or the time after, your luck will fail you and you'll end up in prison again. Which would be a right shame, if you ask me."

My shoulders slumped. Elone was right; by all rights my stunt earlier should have landed me straight back in prison. I'd been overconfident and hadn't thought about consequences, yes, but the main problem was that I simply wasn't used to working on my own. I'd always had someone else to go through plans with, be a look-out, cause distractions, bail me out of trouble when worst came to worst - at this rate I'd end up arrested or killed soon simply because I was relying on back-up that wasn't here. But... "It's not as if I can do anything else." I hadn't actually been planning on sharing, but the words just spilled out of me. "Not like anyone'd hire me for a proper job, and I have to eat _somehow._"

Elone's expression softened. "Of course. For a moment there, I forgot you weren't from Morrowind. Most of the people on that ship looked to be from Cyrodiil... but no. Skyrim, by your accent. Solitude, would be my guess?"

I nodded reluctantly. "Lived there since I was ten. Just moved to Imperial City recently before... all this happened." Maybe I'd developed mind-control powers in the last five minutes so that the _please stop asking about this_ I was currently thinking at her would induce her to change subjects. Hope sprang eternal.

"Well, no wonder then," Elone said decidedly. "You've got pretty limited career choices in a city where going outside the gates is a near death sentence close to nine months of the year. And Imperial City's no better for all that the climate isn't so extreme. But," she fixed me with a stare, "you've got to remember that you're not in either of those places anymore. You're on Vvardenfell. It was a Temple preserve up until recently, you know?" I didn't - in fact I didn't even know what that meant - but Elone didn't seem inclined to let me get a word in between. "So most of it's still unsettled and a lot of the settlements that do exist are new. Vvardenfell is wild, untamed, dangerous, and in a place like that there's a lot of ways a bright, resourceful girl like you can make a living without resorting to crime."

"Like?" I couldn't help but be dubious, as this did not correspond with my previous experience in the slightest.

"Well, you could follow in my footsteps and become a scout." Elone grinned. "Honestly, I might find myself resorting to crime in Solitude myself - not much call for scouting if you can barely get outside without braving frostbite. Or if you're not so much for the wilderness, there's a lot of organisations and guilds recruiting these days, and they usually offer room, board, and a lot of ways to make money. If you're more of the adventuring sort, I know quite a few people who make a tidy sum of money by hunting smugglers and bandits - although by the look of you I'd guess that's not quite your thing." However could she have guessed? I mean, I'm sure I cut the precise image of an imposing warrior. They'll ask for my portrait to put next to 'adventurer' in the Imperial Dictionary any day now, I'm just waiting for the letter.

Elone continued, "If you can cast a water-breathing spell or get an item enchanted there's pearl-diving, although you need to be wary of the slaughterfish. Or you can gather ingredients in the wild and sell them to apocetharies or merchants, or make potions from them to sell yourself- aha, that caught your interest." She'd noticed my eyes light up. "Should have guessed when I saw you spend most your money on a mortar and pestle. Alchemy's an excellent way to make money here. There's enough call for potions that most merchants will buy home-made potions, and it's easy to get ingredients just by stepping outside and plucking flowers. Most everything growing out there, and some of the things walking, have some alchemical use. Who knows, you might even manage to open a shop if you play your cards right."

Alchemical ingredients just growing outside for anyone to pick up? Which you didn't have to dig out from under several inches of ice? Or have to beat the _other_ dozen poor people with alchemical pretensions to? I hadn't seen anything like it since I was a child. If Elone was right and ingredients were readily at hand and it was easy to sell homemade potions, I might be able to eke out an honest living that way... and getting away from a life of crime had more advantages than she knew.

At that point, Imperial guards couldn't have stopped me from going outside to test this myself.

"Wait!" Elone might succeed, though. "Are you planning to go unarmed and unarmoured?"

I stared down at myself (still clad in dreadful prison clothes and conspicuously devoid of anything resembling armour), at my hands (empty), then back at Elone, raising an eyebrow. Honestly, did I _look_ as though I had anything like that on me? Perhaps she thought I'd mastered the art of storing items in some sort of dimensional pockets, a feat I'd read about in books. If so, I was going to have to reconsider all the advice she'd given me; I prefer to take my guidance from people with at least some resemblance of sense.

"Don't be cheeky," Elone said, fixing me with a look. "And I wasn't joking when I said this land was dangerous, you know. You're not safe even close to town, and going outside without any way to defend yourself is just asking for trouble. In fact..."she sighed heavily, then stood up. "I have an old iron short-sword I was planning to sell to Arrille one of these days. Giving it to you is probably a good investment."

"But... Elone, I don't know how to use a sword," I pointed out.

"Which end would you stick into whatever's trying to kill you?" she called back from where she was rummaging through a chest.

Was this a trick question. "The... pointy one?"

"Wonderful! See, you already know how to use a sword better than some Imperial Legion recruits." Seeing the quality of their officers, I honestly wasn't all that surprised. "And 'the sharp bit goes into the enemy' is just about the most important thing to know when you're looking at a charging nix-hound or alit. Here, how's this?"

She pressed a sword into my arms, which sagged immediately. I pondered who on earth had come up with the idea of calling this thing a 'short-sword', as I had no idea what was meant to be so short about it. I could barely lift the thing.

"Well," Elone said, "I'm sure you'll get used to the weight in time."

I wasn't convinced. "Look, Elone... I owe you a lot, for the food, for the advice, for... er... keeping quiet about certain things which the Imperial authorities really don't need to know." I gave her my best smile. "But honestly, I'm no good with weapons. I'd probably stab myself by accident instead. And I know a Destruction spell now," I held my hand up and let flames play around it. "That'll probably be more useful in a pinch than a weapon I can barely lift. So thank you, but..."

Elone's brow furrowed. "I take your meaning, but... how about this. I'll probably be here for another half an hour, gathering up some things before I go back out to search for Processus. If, during that time, you redecide, just come back here and I'll give the sword to you."

I smiled at Elone. "I'll do that. And honestly, thank you for everything. I don't know why you're spending so much time on me..."

"Let's just say I have a suspicion you might just become a productive citizen if you don't get yourself killed first. Now, off you get." She smirked. "See you in five minutes."

It took ten.

Elone was kind enough not to say "I told you so" out loud when I knocked on her door, but her face more than made up for that courtesy. My face burned. I truly hate to admit being wrong, but... they had rats.

I can already imagine the cat-calls – "Oh, don't tell me you're scared of _rats_." Well, ordinarily I'm not. But I'm not talking about your average household rat here. I am talking about giant rats. Monster rats. Rats like you've never seen them before. The thing came up past my knees! Its fangs were several inches long! Destruction spells aren't much use if by the time you're close enough to use them you'd have already lost that hand to a monstrous beast cleverly disguised as a rodent. I'm lucky it couldn't climb trees, or else I might not be here today.

I decided I'd stay close to Seyda Neen for the time being. Just in case.

Several hours and an interminable amount of mud, insects, and insect bites later, I'd managed to avoid any further encounters with the Evil Rats of Doom (as I'd dubbed them) but had run into several crabs of similar size - I suspected they were the source of the soup I'd had for lunch. Luckily, they were slow enough that even with a really-not-short-sword at my side I could easily get a good distance away and wait for them to calm down. I was wondering again if taking that had really been such a good idea - after all, "the pointy end goes in the enemy" is all well and good but hard to manage if you can't even hold the point steady. I supposed that I could always use it as bandit-repellent; I'd be much less likely to be attacked if they erronously believed I could lift a sword without being a danger to myself.

At any rate – what was wrong with this country? Rats and crabs are supposed to be around the length of my forearm, tops. Maybe it was something in the water? A kind of magical algae, perhaps, that made all the creatures grow to monstrous sizes? But then again, wouldn't the people be just as big? A mystery indeed.

Crabs weren't the only thing I'd encountered, as it seemed Elone had been telling the truth about more than just the wildlife. I'd found no less than four types of mushroom, one type of fern and one type of flower in the swamps near the town. I didn't recognise any of them and none looked even remotely edible, two downright poisonous. However, some experimenting proved that the glowing purplish mushrooms combined with the buds of the flower, ground to a powder and mixed with water, created a bitter substance that enabled one to walk on water for short periods of time.

I didn't feel like testing just how short; I'd seen some fish in the water and they looked just as overgrown as every other creature on this island. And hungry. Very hungry. And let's not forget their big sharp teeth, shall we?

Returning to Seyda Neen, I noticed a door in a rock nearby and an inscription engraved above it. Nearing it, I could make out that the letters read "Addamasartus" - the name of a cave, perhaps? More importantly, I could make out footprints in the marshy ground. Someone had been here, and not all that long ago.

I had no idea who might live in such a place. Maybe some more inhabitants of Seyda Neen who hadn't found housing in the town itself. Maybe caves passed for expensive housing here (I could almost believe it after the shacks I'd seen in Seyda Neen). But perhaps it was someone far more dangerous. I told myself I'd really done enough on impulse today and, despite curiosity, gave the cave a wide berth as I returned to Arrille's Tradehouse.

Arrille seemed happily surprised to see I was still alive, although the "happy" part didn't change his ruthless style a whit. It took some hard bargaining, but he gave me fifteen drakes apiece for my homemade potions, more than I was expecting; I suspected he'd agreed just to get me out of the place, as I was dripping swamp all over his floor. Not that I was going to complain. Furthermore, the flowers, called 'coda flowers', according to Arrille, were apparently quite valuable, as they had a levitating effect when chewed (I made a mental note: Substances that give levitation are valuable. Exploit this). Even after haggling myself a set of proper vials and a decent pack, my "legal" purse was once again heavy as I left the tradehouse.

I considered staying near Seyda Neen for a bit, learning about the area and earning a bit of gold through alchemy, but I really didn't plan to stick around until Arrille set his plan into motion. From what I'd seen of Hrisskar Flat-foot I suspected that if he found out who had set him up, I wouldn't get away with my head intact. Besides, although it was tempting to disappear into the wilds with the package bound for Balmora with me I knew it would be a very bad idea. Imperials tend to get cranky when their mail gets delayed or mislaid. No, the best thing to do would be to deliver the package without any further side trips and then make myself scarce. I was sure the recipient wouldn't keep me around; after all, I was hardly anyone special. Just your average thief trying to turn over a new leaf; there was really nothing more the Legion could want of me, was there?

I ignored the nagging doubts about this, which were whispering things like "Emperor's personal orders" and "shipped all the way to Morrowind" and, of course, "release fee", hardened my resolve and stepped onto the road headed for Balmora.

Gravius had mentioned a 'silt strider' travel service that could take you to Balmora. I didn't mean to use it – for one, although I had some spare money now, I wanted to make that last for a while; for another, I was distinctly unsure about how safe giant bugs were as travelling devices.

On the other hand, it was getting dark. And...

I heard a squeaking noise from further along the path, and red, beady eyes gleamed at me out of the darkness.

I took the silt strider.

oOoOo

It was actually much better than I was expecting. Some clever mer had hollowed out the shell on top of the beast and installed seats, meaning that passengers could ride in relative comfort, and it moved with a gentle swaying motion that was vaguely reminiscent of the ship I'd arrived in. Other people might find the gait nauseating, but my stomach remained quiet... at least, as long as I didn't look too closely at exactly how the beast was steered. There are things I never wanted to know about giant flea anatomy.

I was the only passenger but the silt strider operator, Darvame Hleran, was friendly and we whiled the time away chatting – she said she was glad for the company, as she usually transported Legion members newly off the ship from Cyrodiil to Fort Moonmoth in Balmora or, lately, Fort Buckmoth further north, near Gnisis. The moue of distaste she made speaking of the Legion made me like her quite a bit more.

Darvame also gave me what was undoubtedly the single most important piece of advice I received that day, and I'd received many.

I'd mentioned that I had never been to Morrowind before and could probably count the number of other dark elves I'd met on one hand. Surprisingly, a flash of anger crossed her features, then she sighed.

"Don't say dark elf. Say Dunmer," she told me.

I blinked, puzzled. "The old word?"

"The _only_ word," she stressed. "Dark elf is an insult. Not quite as bad a one since you're Dunmer as well, but bad enough. And you're an outlander. No need to make people even more angry with you."

As said, the most important advice I received. Of course, Elone had been immeasurably helpful but all that wouldn't be worth anything if I accidentally gave mortal insult to a local as soon as I got into Balmora and got myself killed.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious – we say Altmer and Bosmer, so why not Dunmer? But I'd spent my life being called a dark elf, with capital letters if people wanted to be polite, it never even ocurred to me that this might qualify as an insult.

Even apart from the conversation, the ride was pleasant. We were up high enough that I had a lovely view of the surrounding countryside – swamps giving way to fields and hills, covered in flora that I was just itching to inspect, an Imperial outpost in the distance I'd make sure to avoid. Then, from one step to another, the green hillsides gave way to the grey, ashy wastes of the Foyada Mamaea, as Darvame called it.

Now, after my complaining about swamps, midges, armour, crabs, E. , Imperial outposts and other such annoyances, one might believe I didn't like Vvardenfell, and that my first sight of the barren ashes that apparently covered much of this island would only reinforce that opinion. It was true that up till then I had been getting steadily less fond of Vvardenfell, and was seriously contemplating getting off it as soon as possible; even the fact that Morrowind was undoubtedly my ancestral home (unless anyone finds Dunmer in, say, Akavir) and that I might be able to make money from my alchemy hadn't managed to change my impression of the island. However, at my first sight of the Foyada Mamaea all that changed.

It turned out that I had left at exactly the right time. Usually, Darvame told me, the volcanic regions were an ugly grey, the monotony only broken by the occasional trama shrub, scathecraw or fireflower – none of them particular aesthetically pleasing either. Adding in the dangerous wildlife (remembering the E. , I was tempted to ask "more dangerous than the wildlife in the swamps?" but thought better of it) it was hardly the most pleasant region of Vvardenfell. But all that changed for a brief time every day and when the silt-strider's footsteps stirred up the ashes of the Foyada Mamaea, the setting sun turned them into glittering diamond dust floating in the air.

The sight was breathtaking, the grey wastes turning gold in the sunlight. It only lasted a short while, but after it was over my eyes seemed to have changed. Rather than the drab ugliness Darvame had described, I saw austere beauty in the grey slopes, the ash whirling in the air, the few struggling plants-

Suddenly, neither this island nor the idea of spending a long time - possibly the rest of my life - here seemed as dreadful.

Even if I still thought someone should come up with an extermination program to deal with the rats.

We didn't spend long in the ash-wastes, as the Foyada Mamaea was apparently bordered by green lands on both sides (I wasn't quite sure of how this worked geographically and decided to try and find a map at some point). So the grey country quickly gave way to green fields again, although the air had a marshy tang more reminiscent of the swamp-lands I'd explored than the lands we'd travelled through. Nevertheless I saw it with new eyes, ignoring the midges and muck in favour of the lush greens, the blossoms, the smell of growing things overlaying the acrid sting of the swamp.

We reached Balmora just past sunset.

After bidding farewell to Darvame and getting off the silt strider, I stopped and stared for a while. Unlike the village of Seyda Neen, Balmora was a proper-sized town, and one built in what seemed to be the local style at that. Rather than the tall granite buildings with steeply slanted shingled roofs I was accustomed to from Solitude or the wood and daub houses with thatched roofs I remembered from my childhood, the buildings here were made out of beige bricks that put me in mind of clay. They were oddly rounded, looking almost slightly organic, and with flat roofs easily accessible by stairs – a clever idea in the balmy climate. It was dark, but the city was well-lit by torches, lanterns, candles and mage-lights, by which I could see that the city was still alive despite the hour – people strolled down the streets or reclined on the roofs, chatting. Most of the shops still seemed to be open, their services announced by flapping banners with symbols and Daedric wordings. A similar banner stood at the gate of the town, saying simply "Balmora". I touched it as I went by.

There were a number of traders near the town gate, but I ignored them; time enough for all that tomorrow, after I'd dropped off the package. Instead, I accosted a Nord passerby for directions to the nearest inn.

She looked at me disdainfully and I winced, uncomfortably aware of the sight I must cut – rough, ill-fitting prison clothing, torn and stained with swamp-muck and ash, red, greasy hair in complete disarray, my face smudged with dirt, a worn iron sword awkwardly sheathed at my side...

"Try the Eight Plates, straight ahead past the Mages' Guild. Or better the South Wall Cornerclub on the other side of the river, they cater to your kind."

Although I was loath to spend more money than I needed to on accomodations – already I was richer than I'd been in a long time and found that I quite liked that state of affairs – the sniff that accompanied the comment of "your kind" decided me. I thanked the Nord politely and set off towards the Eight Plates. (Let no one say that I am not contrary to the point of absolute idiocy.)

The Eight Plates turned out to be an upper-class establishment on the far side of town; the looks its patrons gave me as I entered almost enough to make me forget my bravado and flee back outside again. In the end, it was sheer exhaustion that compelled me forward: I didn't think I'd be able to make it to the bridge, let alone the other side of the river, without collapsing.

The proprietess looked aghast as I approached her. "Now look here, this is a good establishment and we don't serve- ah." She quieted as I hefted my full purse and turned positively friendly once I slid her a few coins.

"My pardon," I murmured, trying to sound like a useless dimwit with more money than- I mean, a noble. "I have been travelling for some days now and seek accomodation for the night."

Either my attempt at an upper-class accent was not a complete failure or the promise of money had mellowed her more than I had hoped; not only did the woman agree to rent me one of her better rooms, but also offered to run me a bath and give me supper despite the late hour. Needless to say, I accepted gladly.

The bath was just the right temperature, deep, long enough to lie down in... in short, perfect after a long day of digging up mushrooms, running from E.R.D.s and dealing with bureaucrats (I think it is obvious which of those three was most exhausting). Too perfect, actually; after scrubbing myself repeatedly and lathering my hair, I dozed off and only woke up when I tried to breathe water. Bathing when tired is a perilous business, one best attempted with either cold water, iron self-control or a ring of water-breathing.

After a great deal of choking and spluttering, some sad looks at my change of clothes (although protected from the ravages of the journey in my pack, they were just as rough and ill-fitting as the others) and a vain attempt to tame my hair, I descended into the common room.

I was informed that supper was a soup of marshmerrow, saltrice and roobrush, followed with fried nix-hound meat and kwama eggs, and decided it was probably better not to ask what any of these things were. When the meal came, the only thing I recognised was the bread on the side – but it didn't matter anyway, as I was so focused on not falling asleep in my soup I didn't even register the taste. I finished quickly, as the noise from the other patrons was making my head hurt, bade goodnight to the landlady and stumbled up the stairs again.

My room was situated on the second floor, with a lovely view over the river, a night-stand and desk and – most importantly – a large, soft-looking bed. I let myself fall on that last and was out before my head even hit the pillow.

oOoOo

_last edited: _21st June 2013


	2. Delivering packages and joining guild

**Chapter summary:** Adryn spends a day in Balmora, during which she drops off Caius' package, joins an organisation and even makes a friend. One of these has consequences she was not expecting.**  
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**Warnings:** None for this chapter.

oOoOo

I woke when it was barely dawn, and groaned when I tried to sit up. Every muscle in my body seemed to be screaming – and no wonder, I thought ruefully, when one considered yesterday's exertion in light of the time in prison. I was sore, bruised and terribly exhausted, and simply going back to sleep seemed very, very inviting.

Except, of course, for the dream.

Even so soon after waking my memory of it was confused and broken, but I remembered enough. It had been... not quite the same dream as yesterday. The voice was gone, for which I was deeply thankful. But the changes – those had been the same. No, not the same-

Stronger.

I shuddered, remembering the feel of my body shifting in ways it had never been meant to, the sound of bones creaking under the immense strain, the sight of grey-golden skin...

This time I ignored my muscles and forced myself up and out of bed. There was a mirror hanging on the opposite wall. It reflected a dark el- a Dunmer (thinking of myself that way would take some getting used to), thin from prison, with bleary red eyes and hair the same shade going every which way. In short, just as always, and I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't that I'd been expecting to see... someone else... but the dream had seemed so real...

"That's enough of that," I told my reflection, and busied myself with trying to bring my hair into some kind of order. Given that I didn't have a brush or comb it was a futile endeavour, but it did get my mind off the odd recurrent nightmare.

When I was satisfied I'd done all I could, I sat back down on the bed. It was very early and I was still bone-tired, but sleep was out of the question. Perhaps I'd go down and see if anyone else was up yet. I decided to leave my pack in my room, but take my purse with me. I didn't want to look as if I were sneaking out without paying, but I didn't trust the security in this place enough to leave my money unguarded. (Frankly, if any thief wanted to take Elone's short-sword they were welcome to it. And I wouldn't grieve over-much for the Imperial package, either.)

To my surprise, the proprietress was not just up but was already making breakfast. She exclaimed when she saw me and bustled me to a chair. Thinking back to the mirror upstairs, I had to agree that I looked dreadful.

"Bad night," I told her weakly when she asked why I wasn't still in bed, I certainly looked as if I needed the rest, poor dear. (I wasn't quite sure how I'd made it from "poverty-stricken scum that shouldn't set foot in my guest-house" to "poor dear" in one night, but decided not to ask.)

"Dreams?" she asked, sounding unsurprised.

Off-balance, I nodded. "Well... yes. How did you guess?"

She clucked. "It's been going around. More and more people have been having strange dreams. The soul-sickness, they call it. Feldrelo Sadri, our main priest at the Temple, is at her wits' end – or so I hear."

"This is common?" I found myself startled. Of all the things I'd expected to hear, that hadn't been it. How could _nightmares_ be 'going around'? 'Soul-sickness' indeed, it wasn't as if they were a common illness! Or contagious!

And besides, the dreams had seemed so oddly... special, personal, tailored to me and me only. Dozens of strangers having ones like it, the voice speaking to them just as it had to me, just felt... wrong. And wasn't that a nice bit of arrogance or more probably stupidity right there, given that I didn't want the dreams to begin with?

The other woman was talking. "Not common, precisely. But growing, growing. And what's worse, the people affected, some of them start acting... strange. Not themselves. Saying odd things. And sometimes, sometimes-" her voice was now barely above a whisper, "the ones it takes _very_ badly, sometimes they just get up and walk away. And no one ever sees them again."

Something clattered outside. I jumped, the spell broken.

"I hope you'll excuse me if that doesn't exactly make me feel any better," I said weakly.

Her mouth opened in horror. I suspected she'd been so caught up in her tale that she forgot she wasn't telling ghost-stories to passersby, but rather speaking to someone who was having the dreams herself. "Oh no, dear! I'm sure you're perfectly safe. It never takes outlanders as badly as the natives. In fact," she grew thoughtful, "I think you're the first I've ever heard of..."

"Mm," I muttered noncommittally. I didn't bother to point out that if I was the first outlander she knew of who'd ever had this 'soul-sickness', she wouldn't very well know whether they had more or less problems than the natives. For all she knew, the reason no outlanders ever reported odd dreams was because they succumbed to... whatever it was... almost immediately.

All this was unimportant, of course, as _I_ certainly wasn't going to succumb to anything. Especially not dreams! I mean, I decided a long time ago that when I die it had better involve the gates of Oblivion themselves opening or something else appropriately dramatic. Nightmares simply do not measure up.

Suddenly, a mug of steaming dark liquid was placed before my nose. "Drink this, dear," the woman said kindly. "It'll wake you up while I finish breakfast."

I blame the lack of sleep; I didn't study the drink at all, didn't note its precise colour or viscosity, didn't so much as sniff it before taking a sip. Me, who calls herself an alchemist. The shame will follow me to my dying day.

The liquid was very hot, and very bitter. I, of course, did not mind – regarding the first, it takes a lot more than hot tea to burn any Dunmer's tongue; as for the second, I am, as mentioned, an alchemist. You would not believe the things I have voluntarily ingested. 'Bitter' is harmless.

More to the point, I could already feel the liquid clearing up the fog in my mind. It was more a restorative than a stimulant, I judged, meaning that the effect would be lasting instead of sending me crashing down once it wore off.

"This is excellent," I said. "What's in it?"

The other woman didn't turn around from the hearth, but I could almost hear the smirk in her voice. "Secret recipe."

I, of course, took this as a challenge.

I took another sip and tried to sort through the flavour. Bitter, of course. But there was a subtle, smoky undertone. Hmm. Bitter with a smoky undertone, a restorative but not a stimulant, what kind of ingredient would produce that effect?

Then I realised that of all the growing things in this country, I could recognise all of five by taste. And two of them were poisonous mushrooms..

...Perhaps it would be better to answer this challenge at a later date.

"Food's done!"

On cue, my stomach gave a loud growl, and I decided to focus on more mundane things for the next while.

* * *

><p>I lingered over the breakfast of kwama eggs – apparently a staple of Morrowind diet, although this time they were boiled rather than fried – and bread with scrib jelly, chatting with Dulnea Ralaal (as it turned out the publican was called.) She was able to tell me a lot of things about the city. Most of it was left as undigested lumps of information in my head – I simply didn't know enough about this land to know, for instance, what being "the main Hlaalu city in Vvardenfell, although none of the Councilors make their home here" entailed – but some of it was very helpful. I now knew, for instance, that there were both a Mages' and a Fighters' Guild in town, that outside of the guilds there were numerous traders and pawnbrokers, an armourer, a bookseller as well as an alchemist (my ears perked) and a clothier offering services on this side of the river. Apparently, the other side was the slums. Well, she didn't say "slums" but as her description was much longer and much less flattering, I try to summarise.<p>

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to tell me where to find Caius Cosades. "But if I haven't heard of him," she said thoughtfully, "he can't live westside. You might try asking at the South Wall Cornerclub, I've heard that's where _those_ people spend their time."

The South Wall Cornerclub – that was where that Nord had wanted to send me yesterday. I sighed inwardly; so much for stiff-necked pride. If I'd gone there yesterday, I might have found Cosades right away.

Dulnea wondered why I was looking for what was undoubtedly a "dull-witted layabout, too lazy to do an honest day's work. And probably addicted to some horrible substance on top of it all." I told her I was running an errand, delivering a package from Seyda Neen, although I did my best to make her believe this was more of an ordinary mail run. "He must be an Imperial by the name," I said, "maybe he has family back in Cyrodiil or something who want to stay in contact. I wouldn't have taken the job but, well, I've fallen on hard times recently..."

All true, of course, but rather misleading – I wanted to keep the full story for myself until I knew either exactly what was going on or that it had absolutely nothing to do with me (the latter, preferably). Luckily, Dulnea didn't seem to catch the deception.

Instead, she clucked over said hard times, how skinny I was, how it was terrible that someone such as me was running errands for a person like this Cosades and, of course, how I absolutely had to stop by her friend Millie and get better clothes as soon as I could. I nodded in the appropriate places and wondered again how I'd managed to rise in Dulnea's estimation. If I could only figure out why the change, I might be able to pick up a new trick for my Making People Not Hate Adryn arsenal. It needed all the help it could get, after all.

At that point, the first other overnight guests started making their way downstairs, yawning hugely. Dulnea quickly had her hands full and since I didn't want to make a bother of myself, I paid as soon as I could and made myself scarce.

By now, the city of Balmora was waking up. Some of the shops were already open, and I spied several people waiting impatiently beside ones that weren't. A group of children – mostly Dunmer, but I saw several from the human races as well as one Orc and one Khajiit – were playing tag in the street, occasionally tripping up a passing guard in the process. Their laughter mixed with the sound of clangs and thuds coming from the lower doorway of the Fighters' Guild; clearly someone was already training. The Mages' Guild, on the other hand, was entirely silent and the door was still closed. Apparently they liked to sleep in.

On the east side of the river, things looked very different. The buildings were smaller and more run-down and the streets dirtier - I had to pick my path carefully if I didn't want to step straight into something that I never wanted that close to my skin. The people wore simple, ragged clothes, and I could spot several who looked to be homeless. What I couldn't spot, however, were guards.

Now, this would be the part where some rich person would probably run away or act as if they were surrounded by hungry wolves. I, however, relaxed. This sort of area was more familiar to me and somewhere I fitted in much better than the nice clean guard-ridden streets with fancy shops and manor houses of the west side - and honestly, I'd take pickpockets and beggars over guards every day! After all - and this is something we all work to keep away from the rich - the easiest way to get through this sort of area without a fuss is to look as though you know what you're doing and not look as though you have anything worth stealing. With my rough clothes and purse tucked out of sight inside my shirt, I fulfilled both conditions beautifully. Guards, on the other hand, are a plague on Nirn.

So I made it to the South Wall Cornerclub unmolested, with most people not giving me a second glance. It was quite noticeable that near the South Wall, the people looked more... purposeful. It wasn't anything overt, they looked just as poor as any other person living this side of the river, but there was something about them and the way they moved, something familiar...

Warning bells were going off in my head, but I couldn't quite pin down what it was.

Inside the South Wall, it was surprisingly busy; there were a few people coming and going and I could hear a great deal of conversation and activity downstairs. I blinked in surprise. I'd actually expected that no one would be up yet and I'd have to come back later. This bustle was... odd. Odder was that apparently – judging by the snippets of conversation I caught here and there – most of the people here were just 'finishing up business' before heading home and to bed.

Very nocturnal business, apparently.

The warning bells were very loud now. In just a moment, I'd-

"'Scuse me, are you Guild?"

I stared at the Nord girl who'd spoken, mind whirling. Of course. Of course, it had been so obvious, all the signs had been there, how could I have been so unbelievably _stupid_.

_Thieves' Guild!_

Clearly, my mouth was smarter than my brain; even as the latter was busy with self-recrimination, the former was working at getting me out of this situation.

"Guild? But this isn't a guild, I mean the Mages' and Fighters' Guilds are on the other side of town." I affected an expression of honest confusion. "I'm not a member of anything, I'm just looking for a person – have a package to deliver-" I hefted my pack. Harmless errand-runner, that's me. "Someone told me I should ask here."

Apparently my act of ignorance had worked. "No, of course we're not a guild of anything, we just, uh, have special discounts for, um, Mages' Guild members sometimes! Um, who are you looking for?"

"Caius Cosades," I told her, heart rate finally slowing down. Clumsy fool, that girl. First she just asked like that. After all, there were signs. Codes. Ways to make delicate inquiries such as that one without immediately arousing the suspicion of any innocent passerby. And the way she tried to backtrack... well, the less said of that the better! Why, if I were her-

Don't go down that line of thought, Adryn. You know where it leads.

"Never heard of him. You could ask Bacola Closcius, he owns this place. He knows a lot of people."

I could ask him, yes. Of course, what I really wanted to do was start running now, never come near here again, and figure out something else (such as knocking on every door in Balmora, or throwing the damn package in the river and being done with it.) Unfortunately I couldn't think of a good excuse for leaving now, and appearing suspicious was a very bad idea. So asking him it was - and sending up a prayer to Stendarr that I wouldn't be noticed by anyone else. "That sounds like a good idea," I lied. "So where can I find him?"

"Oh, right." She blushed. "His office is upstairs."

I thanked her and made my way upstairs, trying not to look as if I was running. Apparently, some small measure of luck was with me after all; judging by where all the noise was coming from, Guild business seemed to be downstairs rather than upstairs. This made avoiding them easy and meant that Closcius was probably a front for the Guild rather than an active member or – Stendarr forbid – the Mastermind of this town.

I was in even more luck – Closcius was engrossed in what looked like an account book and didn't seem to be very interested in me. He reminded me of Sellus Gravius, in a way – elderly Imperial, probably very smart and very dangerous but with his mind someplace else. (I wasn't complaining about that last part.) He didn't even ask me why I was looking for Cosades, just absently gave me directions to the man's house and then ignored me entirely. I think he'd forgotten my existence before I even left the room.

I nodded to the Nord girl as I left the building, turned a corner and collapsed against the wall.

That had been close. That had been much too close, and I silently cursed Gravius for suggesting I "ask around" in town, and Dulnea for telling me to ask _here_ of all places. And I hadn't got away with it yet – if the Nord girl told the Mastermind about the odd messenger who'd wandered in, if they were in contact with the Skyrim guilds... I hadn't given my name, but it wasn't as if I were particularly inconspicuous...

Then it hit me, and I almost laughed out loud.

I _was_ inconspicuous. For once in my life, I blended in with the crowd perfectly. I was a Dunmer in a land full of Dunmer. The only thing about me that was even remotely unusual was my hair colour, a coppery orange-red, and even there I'd seen another person with the exact same shade on the street.

I was safe.

"Oi, this is my spot! You can't sleep here!" A foot prodded my side, none too gently.

...well, safe in a general sense.

I apologised to the surly-looking local, dodged a second kick and got out of there. I'd run this gauntlet; now it was time to find Cosades.

oOoOo

To my surprise, in her speculations about Cosades' habits and nature Dulnea had been right about one thing.

Judging by, oh, the empty vials with that suspicious smell rising from them and the set of full ones sitting on the shelf and let's not forget the pipe, no, how could we even _think_ of forgetting the pipe- well, at any rate the Imperial was definitely a skooma addict.

In the rest, however, she'd been entirely wrong. Especially when it came to the "dull-witted" part, unfortunately. The instant I opened the door, I silently cursed fate for leading me to the third smart and dangerous Imperial in two days. Sadly, this one was not busy with something else. On the contrary, he seemed far too interested in me for comfort.

It was surprising, and very disturbing. Despite my doubts, I'd expected to be shooed off once I delivered my package. Instead, Cosades told me to stay right where I was and proceeded to intersperse studying the documents that had been inside with ever longer and more thoughtful looks at me. Finally, he'd just put the stack of paper down – he hadn't even finished reading it yet! - and proceeded to stare at me openly.

Now, if I were one of those big, hulking brainless lummoxes that seem to populate every tavern in this world (I'm sure there's a machine that turns them out somewhere, some Dwemer invention gone horribly, horribly wrong; I don't know how they'd reproduce otherwise) I would've reacted to that appraising look with... well, definitely badly. Glaring back and saying something like "what do you think you're looking at, skooma-head?" came to mind. I am, however, not big, not hulking, not brainless or a lummox – at least I like to think so – and definitely, definitely not suicidal. So instead, I shifted nervously from foot to foot, folded my arms over my breasts – it didn't seem like that kind of appraising look, but I'm paranoid – tried to look everywhere except at the man while still keeping a wary eye on him (which is just as physically impossible as it sounds like, for the record) and dearly wished for my daggers.

Not that I would have used them. I mentioned not being suicidal, right? But in a way, a pair of daggers in spring-loaded wrist-sheaves can be the well-trained adult's teddy bear replacement. Not particularly cuddly unless you buy the right sheath, and I wouldn't recommend sleeping with them, but there is a certain measure of comfort that comes from knowing you have two instruments of sharp and pointy death at your fingertips and no one knows. A shortsword just isn't the same, even without considering the fact that I was probably more of a danger to myself than to anyone else with the thing.

I realised I was babbling, albeit mentally, and forced myself to concentrate on the situation at hand.

Cosades was still studying me, brows furrowed. I really wondered why he was taking so long; it normally takes people all of half a second to jump to conclusions about me. Perhaps the extra time would show itself in even more spectacularly absurd judgements than usual? Considering the current record lay at accusing me of cannibalism (honestly, I am not a Bosmer – and even they only eat their dead!) I was intrigued to know what he'd come up with.

The Imperial was muttering something to himself. "...don't know who is in charge of picking these people, probably get sent a Sload next at this point..." I managed to catch. Then he sighed, loudly, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I suppose I have to make do with what I've got. Adryn, right?"

I nodded warily.

"Now, if anyone asks? I'm an amateur historian, and you delivered some rare books I'd had shipped in from Cyrodiil. A few volumes of the _2920_ series, I think. As to why you're actually here..." Cosades smiled. It was entirely humourless. "Welcome to the Blades."

...wait.

What?

The cannibalism had easily been surpassed. Thinking I was in any way, shape or form suitable to be an Imperial spy definitely took the record for the most bizarre thing anyone had thought of me yet. The Imperial had to be on a skooma high. I started to back away slowly.

"_Stay right there._" The voice was like a whip, and it seemed to go straight to my legs – which locked up dutifully – without asking permission of my brain in between.

"I know what you're thinking," he continued, voice softer. "You're thinking, 'this man has lost his mind. Too much sugar.' Well, I may have something of a sugar problem – but I'm also the head of the Blades here on Vvardenfell."

I choked. It was insane, it was impossible, it was the delusions dreamed up between some man and his skooma pipe and I should get out of here and leave him to his madness.

But...

I'd seen some skooma-addicts in my time, and none of them had acted like Cosades. Skooma causes all sorts of issues, but not generally delusions. And that voice... it was, I slowly realised, the voice of a man long used to command, to being obeyed without question.

And, of course, if Cosades was mad – why had Gravius sent me to him?

"Right, so you're an Imperial spymaster," I told him. I'd meant for it to sound sarcastic, but somehow it didn't come out that way. "But what do you want with me?"

Cosades raised an eyebrow. "I just told you. You're to be inducted into the Blades, Emperor's own orders. Rank of Novice."

I sputtered. "But- wait- this is absolutely ridiculous! You're saying that you dragged me all the way to Morrowind, released me from _prison_, all so I could join the Emperor's own personal spy ring?"

"Yes."

I sputtered some more. Cosades waited patiently until I'd calmed down enough to manage a "but why me?"

"I'm afraid you're not high enough in rank to be told that yet. Need-to-know, you understand."

I was about to explain to Cosades at length that if anyone needed to know, it was me, but he held up a hand, his presence filled the room as if he'd suddenly doubled in size and my mouth snapped shut. (Disturbing trick, that. Much like a Command spell without the magic, and _that_ was a thought that made the hair rise on the back of my neck.)

"Now, Novice Adryn..." he looked me over (really, hadn't he seen enough by now?) and his expression grew pained. Apparently, although I'd never realised this before, I had the ability to cause headaches on sight. I was sure it would come in handy.

"Normally," Cosades continued, "I'd now determine your level of experience-"

"But I don't want to be in the Blades!" I blurted out.

"What you want isn't the issue, Novice." I shivered; it seemed as if the temperature of the room had suddenly dropped to freezing. "The Emperor himself wants you to be in the Blades. It is not healthy to contradict the Emperor. Not for me, and especially not for you. Therefore, you are now a member of the Blades. _Do you understand?"_

I nodded, cowed.

"Now, as I was saying, I'd ordinarily judge your level of experience, strengths, weaknesses, areas to focus on. Probably suggest some guilds for you to join, trainers to seek out, consider whether you were ready to go on missions already or needed more time first. But as for you-"

I quirked an eyebrow.

"-Dibella's tits! I don't even know where to begin. You're like a feral cat." Breton, Bosmer and now Khajiit – was it really so hard to figure out that I was Dunmer? Red eyes, grey skin, one wouldn't think it was that difficult. I was waiting for someone to tell me I was an Orc now, just to finish things off. "Claws out and ready to attack the first person who tries to come near you." And really, that was an exaggeration. I didn't have my daggers anymore, after all. "Look, just take this money and come back when you're ready to deal with civilisation."

I blinked at the proferred pouch. By the bulge, I'd guess it was probably twice as much as what Gravius had given me. With this, I could make a good start here. But-

"I don't want it," I told him. Part of me was mentally kicking myself already; I was turning down money! Free money! Had I lost my mind?

Except, of course, that the money wasn't free. Just like with the money from Gravius, although there I hadn't seen it yet... there were strings attached, strings I had no intention of getting anywhere near. Taking that money meant accepting the position that was being forced on me, acquiescing to becoming a member of the Blades, bought and sold like a slave-

No, I had no intention of touching that money.

"Who said you had a choice?" Cosades snapped. "Take it. Get out of here. Talk to people. Start looking like a sentient being instead of a cornered animal. That's an order, Novice Adryn."

In some situations, intentions matter little.

I took the money and fled.

Outside, I found myself a quiet, abandoned corner and counted how much it was, twice.

Two hundred drakes. Two hundred drakes exactly. That was how much my life was worth.

I hugged my knees to my chest and cried.

oOoOo

Some time later, I stood in front of the Mages Guild.

Something Cosades – I shuddered at the name – had said stuck with me. _Probably suggest some guilds for you to join..._

I vaguely recalled Elone had said something similar – and it made perfect sense, of course. When I was young I wanted to join the Mages Guild, but... well... by the time I was old enough things weren't working out that way. Also, I'd heard the stories of the entrance requirements. Not just entrance requirements regarding magical skills, oh no, a decent background and money were far more important prerequisites. After all, never mind the magical skill, it would be absolutely _appalling_ if a common or poor person got in!

But I was in Morrowind now, and even in the barely-a-day I'd been on the island I'd learned enough to doubt that the guild here was anything like the bloated organisation made up of emigrant Altmer and nobles' sons I'd encountered. Moreover, I was trying to make a fresh start. As I'd told the bureaucrat in Seyda Neen, magic was probably my best skill after certain things he didn't need to know about and I was trying to avoid using. Why _not_ try to join the Mages Guild?

And besides, the worst they could do was laugh at me.

Actually, a pessimistic corner of my mind pointed out, there were a lot of things worse than that they could do. A lot of them involved guards or prisons, the more inventive ones paralysis spells and summoned Daedra. It just wasn't very likely they'd do anything worse than laugh at me, provided I refrained from mortally insulting any high-ranking mages, ruining any experiments, destroying priceless magical artifacts-

All right, I was doomed.

I almost turned tail and ran right then, but I'd already reached the door to the Guild and my own stubborn pride wouldn't let me quit so close to my goal. That pride would be the death of me one day, I predicted gloomily. I just hoped it wasn't this day.

I reached forward to open the door, smiling as I felt the soft wool of my new robe against my arm. Before coming to the guild I'd stopped by the clothier in town, run by Dulnea's friend Millie. I'd spent rather more of my money than planned – I refused to count Cosades' into that amount – but it had been well worth it just for the feeling of being able to throw away the old prison clothes. The new clothes weren't very fine, but they were well-made, durable and, best of all, actually tailored for someone my general size and shape instead of an Altmer-sized humanoid octopus (or so I'd guessed, given the general size and placement of holes.) Adding in a long session with the comb Millie had thrown in, and I almost felt like a whole new person.

The door creaked open, and I peered in cautiously.

Inside, I found a stone corridor with a flight of stairs going up to the right. Hardly any light filtered through the windows, but there were paper lanterns hanging from the walls so I could see quite well.

The place was obviously rich, with expensive tapestries hanging from the walls and a fine carpet underfoot, but I found myself disappointed. Where were the magic lights? The summoned servants? The magical items? The strange and exotic magical instruments? I'd been expecting an enchanted carpet at the very least, possibly one that was woven from, oh, Tsaesci hair, and screamed loudly whenever an intruder set foot on it.

Really, the most magical thing in the place so far looked like the robes of the Dunmer woman standing in front of me.

Wait.

Dunmer?

"Um, hello!" I greeted the woman I'd been ignoring sheepishly.

She raised an eyebrow and looked me up and down without answering. Ordinarily, I would have reacted angrily to her rudeness, but since I was here in order to ask a favour (or rather, beg to be allowed to join the Guild) I endured it silently.

"Are you here to join the Guild?"

I jerked in surprise. "How did you know?" I mean, even with the new robe I hardly looked like someone who would be joining the Guild, did I? Not rich enough, not noble enough, not Altmer enough, and far too much thief. The only way she could have known was via... telepathy.

I thought back on what had been going through my mind earlier.

I was doomed. The paralysis spell would hit me any moment now. The only thing I could hope for was Mehrunes Dagon's mercy – a quick death.

So far, however, the woman didn't seem to be casting any spells, paralysis or otherwise. Instead, she had a rather smug look on her face. "Quite elementary. You're clearly an outlander, for one, meaning that you are undoubtedly more likely to join the Guild than the natives. You are wearing a robe, and you don't look as though you have enough money for the services here. And you're new to Balmora, probably new to Vvardenfell entirely. Added to the apparent lack of money, it implies that you are in need of support, of the kind the Guild offers. Am I correct?"

"Completely," I responded, dazed. No telepathy then. A narrow escape indeed.

Quickly, I turned my mind from my apparently not imminent after all doom to the matter at hand. Time to plead my case. "I'm a good alchemist, and I have some skills in almost all the magical schools. Mysticism is probably my best, I know two Detection spells and-"

"Can you write?" the woman interrupted.

I blinked, thrown off track. If literacy had to be explicitly stated as a requirement, the standards for entry here were indeed a lot lower than in Cyrodiil. I had a chance of getting in.

"Well, yes. Quite well-"

"Good." Apparently, I wasn't to be allowed to finish a sentence. Thankfully, I was still not suicidal and therefore not inclined to get angry about it. "It makes the registration much easier. Here, just write your name down here and sign there."

I blinked at the book being held beneath my nose. It had three columns – 'Date', 'Name' and 'Signature'. Looking at the previous entries, I noted that for many of them the date and name had been written in the same elegant hand while "signature" was a single scrawled letter X.

Apparently, literacy _wasn't_ a requirement for the Morrowind Mages' Guild.

"Are you going to join or not?"

I apologised, took the proferred book and quill pen and neatly noted my name, then paused.

"Well?" I really wasn't sure why she was so impatient. After all, she'd just been standing there when I'd arrived, it didn't seem as if she had anything else to do.

I expected saying this would not get me much in the way of good-will, guild-joining or anything at all except possibly for that paralysis spell. And besides, given that she was a high-ranking mage, she'd probably been engaged in important matters that only required standing there and staring that I couldn't possibly understand. Trying to come up with a telepathy spell, no doubt. So instead, I simply said, "Could you tell me today's date? I'm afraid I've lost track of time."

"The twentieth of Hearthfire." The look she gave me with her answer let me know that _she_ would never do something as ridiculous and unmagelike as forgetting what date it was. I resisted the impulse to tell her that if she'd been under a sleep spell for at least three days she'd be a little muddled too, instead quickly noted it down and signed my name with a flourish.

As I handed the book back, I noted that I felt just the same as before. Strange, that. I would have thought being member of the Mages' Guild would make me feel... different, somehow. Apparently the arrogance wasn't inherent to being in the Guild - who could have guessed?

"All right. Welcome to the Mages' Guild, Associate-" she looked at the book, "-Adryn. No family name?"

Once I had duly confirmed that yes, I really had no family name (it happens! I fail to understand why people get so odd about it!) she continued. "Associate Adryn, right. I am Ranis Athrys, a Wizard in the Guild and Guild Steward for the Balmora Mages' Guild. Would you like to hear the Mages' Oath?"

"Wait a minute, shouldn't you have asked me that before I joined?" I asked, surprised.

Ranis waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, that kind of thing is hardly very important, now is it? Time enough once you've joined."

I was getting the vague impression that the Mages' Guild was eager for new members. I have no idea what could have made me think so. Honestly.

"Well, I would like to hear the Mages' Oath," I told Ranis firmly.

Ranis rattled it off with the ease of long habit – there couldn't be that few new recruits if she was this familiar with it, I thought. It was pretty much what I'd been expecting, all about the pursuit of knowledge and the like. I took it fully sincerely and honestly, although the sidelong glances Ranis gave me made me suspect that _she_ didn't think so.

"Well, that's that," Ranis said once I was done. "The other members are downstairs, in our common area – there are temporary beds for those of us who don't yet have a place of their own." A rather pointed hint, but I was grateful for it. If I stayed at the Eight Plates every day, my funds would be gone very quickly – even if I used the Blades' money, which I had absolutely no intention of doing. (I had very fond dreams of returning that money to Cosades one day. Preferably from a distance, with a slingshot and good aim.)

"Advancement in the guild is achieved if you have the necessary skill and have shown your loyalty to the guild by doing the appropriate duties. I don't have anything suitable for an Associate at the moment, so if you want any duties, speak to Ajira downstairs. Is there anything else you would like to know? Because I would rather like to get back to my work."

Given that Ranis was looking rather impatient and I was already close to completely overwhelmed with the things I'd learned in the past few days, I told her that no, that was everything, thanked her and headed downstairs.

oOoOo

Downstairs, the air was pleasantly cool and dry, and I paused for a moment to gather my wits and look into the large room that was apparently the centre of the guild.

We were below ground, so there were no windows, but the room was well-lit with yet more lanterns. There were several comfortable-looking blue bunk beds in a corner, a number of shelves filled with books and what looked like an alchemy lab at the far end. There were also a number of people, who I assumed from the location and robes they were wearing to be mages - an Orc who only looked up from her book to glare at whatever had interrupted her concentration, an elderly Altmer and a fellow dar- Dunmer deep in conversation, and in the corner with the alchemical devices a Khajiit and a Bosmer who were also deep in conversation, except that theirs seemed rather less friendly. Now, I admit I was judging on first sight so maybe I was entirely wrong and they were in fact the best of friends, but the scowls, extended claws and swishing tail (Khajiit) and pestle being held in a threatening manner (Bosmer) all contributed to leave a certain... impression.

Oh, and the shouting. The shouting added a certain something to the scene.

"-telling me to get out? My desk is upstairs, true, but I'm hardly barred from the main area of the guild. I have just as much right to be here as you do, you-"

"Well, if Galbedir insists on coming down here and disturbing Ajira while they are both supposed to be working, maybe she can explain why Ajira's request for violet corprinus and luminous russula from the Vivec guild disappeared-"

The Bosmer tried to look outraged, but with that level of acting she'd have been laughed out of any tavern in Skyrim. Yes, even the ones where the patrons are so drunk they have a bucket next to each table and handholds on the bar. I could spot the smug look she was trying to hide from the entrance. "As if you have any evidence for such an accusation! But I suppose lying is just to be expected from someone who is so lazy as to request easy-to-find local ingredients from the main guild instead of going and getting them herself-"

The Khajiit - I assumed she was Ajira - bristled. And let me tell you, that word takes on an entirely new meaning with Khajiit. "Why you-"

"Would the both of you shut up?" a new voice interrupted. A Breton woman, standing near the arguing pair, who I'd somehow missed earlier. "I'm trying to concentrate, you know. If the guild guide network collapses and half Vvardenfell comes knocking on our door complaining about it I'll send them to you, then you'll be sorry!"

"Ajira would be happy to shut up if Galbedir left, stopped trying to sabotage her work and _get your filthy hands off my equipment-_" Ajira had apparently just noticed that Galbedir had appropriated a pestle as a makeshift weapon.

"Girls." Total silence fell, only interrupted by the thud of Galbedir dropping the pestle. I goggled at the Altmer who'd interrupted in amazement. She hadn't even raised her voice!

"I am ashamed of both of you," she continued. "Carrying on like this, and when we have a customer, to boot!"

Five pairs of eyes snapped to me, prompting me to try to hide (it's a reflex! I can't help it!). The effort was sadly futile, given that I was standing in full torchlight - I may be good, but I'm not the Grey Fox. It didn't stop me from trying to become one with the bare stone wall behind me all the same.

"Oh, don't be shy," the Altmer continued. "What are you here for? Are you looking for spells? Potions? Enchanted items? Transport?"

"Actually, I just joined the guild. Ranis Athrys said I should speak to Ajira for assignments?" I inched away from the wall, mourning our too-brief friendship. I was starting to regret joining, as so far the guild members weren't exactly giving off an overwhelming impression of mental stability - of the six in the room, one had her nose in a book and was ignoring everyone, three seemed to spend their time shouting at one another, and I was wary of the Altmer. There had to be more to the mer who could stop the Ajira and Galbedir show with a word.

"Ah, a new Associate! Welcome, we're all pleased to have you. I'm Estirdalin, and these are Marayn Dren, Ajira, Galbedir, Masalinie Merian and Sharn gra-Muzgob," she pointed to each of the mages in turn, and I decided not to commend that I'd managed to work out two of those for myself. And it was relatively easy to work out who each of the remaining names must belong to, given the races of the people in question...

I noticed Estirdalin looking at me expectantly and quickly reviewed the conversation in my head- oh. She was probably waiting for me to introduce myself. "I'm Adryn," I said. Really, this made how many times in two days? I ought to invest in a name tag. And possibly add on "the next person who asks 'no family name?' will get to experience my brand-new Firebite spell free of charge. Really, nobody wonders about it with Bosmer or Altmer, but if a d- Dunmer shows up with only a first name suddenly everyone has to make inane comments." Well, a bit more briefly than that.

Thankfully for my relations with my new guildmates, Estirdalin's only reaction to my name was a quirk of an eyebrow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Adryn. Now, if I may be so bold as to ask-" Altmer. Always have to play more-manners-than-thou. "-did you join the guild primarily to take advantage of the services, or out of a genuine interest in the art of magic?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Interest, of course. I've always wanted to learn more about magic, but never properly had the chance." Really, as if any sane person would tell a room full of dedicated mages that the only reason they'd joined was to take advantage of the services!

...come to think of it, given Ranis' attitude earlier I doubted it was all that unusual.

"I do know quite a bit about alchemy, and some magic," I concluded.

Suddenly, I saw Ajira making shushing signs from the corner of my eye. But it was too late.

Estirdalin's eyes gleamed. "Really. I hope you don't mind if I ask you a few questions about that?"

What followed was the most exhausting grilling I had ever undergone in my life. I had no idea what that old Altmer was doing at the Mages' Guild; she should be in some Imperial dungeon, teaching professional interrogators how to _really_ get answers. At the end, it felt as if every single fact I knew about any aspect of magic and a few I didn't had been dredged out of my brain. Estirdalin looked happy; I mainly wanted to crawl over to the soft, inviting-looking bed and sleep for a day.

"That's all _very_ interesting! I'll have to think of a training schedule for you." Okay, forget sleep. Sleep could only bring temporary relief. Sleep meant waking up, meant facing Estirdalin again at some point. Death, on the other hand...

"Excuse me, but Ajira thinks she heard Adryn say that the Dunmer was to take duties from her," a voice interrupted from behind us. Ajira, apparently. Only Khajiit and Argonians are that cruel to grammar. "And she said she is most interested in alchemy, which is Ajira's specialty, no?"

"She is – I mean, I am," I agreed hastily. At that moment, I was completely prepared to forgive and forget Ajira's earlier vicious attack on my eardrums and her massive abuse of the third person. No, Ajira was saving me from Estirdalin. For that, I'd declare her my new best friend.

"Well!" Estirdalin seemed skeptical, but then sighed. "I suppose you're right. But if you ever want any proper nurture of your magical skills, girl-"

"I'll come to you, of course, Estirdalin Thank you very much. It's... too great of an honour for me," I invented rapidly. "I don't think I could... profit from it properly at the moment. I don't have the proper... mindset."

"Hmph. I see. Well, come to me if you ever change your mind." Estirdalin still did not seem convinced, but was apparently not inclined to argue. Silently, I thanked each of the Nine Divines, and then the Daedra Lords for good measure. I'm not a Daedra worshipper, but some situations are specia. Besides, I suspect that if Ajira hadn't saved me from Estirdalin, I would have quickly become a devotee of Sheogorath, _if_ you know what I mean.

"Come," Ajira was whispering and tugging at my robe. "Before she changes her mind."

I noted with satisfaction that prison had not reduced my ability to move very, very quickly in life-or-death situations.

We fled to behind the alchemy desk (I eyed it, wondering if it might be possible to fortify it somehow) and, after a minute, Estirdalin sighed and walked away. Once I was sure the danger had passed, I found myself collapsing in helpless giggles.

"It is not funny," Ajira said reprovingly. "The honoured Estirdalin is very, very... dedicated." Her whiskers twitched. "Ajira spent two days working with her when she arrived."

"Goodness. How did you survive?" I managed between giggles, then clapped my hands over my mouth. I hadn't meant to say that aloud.

Ajira looked as if she were about to take offense, but then her mouth quirked in what I recognised as a rueful smile. "With difficulty." And that set me off again.

I eventually managed to calm down, rather embarrassed – I wasn't usually given to hysterical laughter. I decided to blame it on stress; I hadn't exactly had an easy few days of it, after all.

The Breton in the other corner (I didn't know how she could stand it, not having some kind of barrier between her and Estirdalin) was staring at me as if she thought I were mad. I didn't take it badly; I wouldn't be at all surprised to find I _was_ mad. Yes, that must be it – I'd lost my mind in prison and everything that had happened had been one long hallucination. It was so obvious, I couldn't imagine why I hadn't figured it out earlier. I mean, giant fleas as transportation? Being forcibly inducted into the most infamous and elusive spy network in existence? The Empire actually _giving_ people money? That last at the very least should have clued me in on something not being right.

Of course, even now that I'd deduced this, I figured I might as well go with the flow anyway seeing as it was being quite pleasant as hallucinations went.

Not that I have much in the way of experience with hallucinations. Hardly any, in fact. Really, you could call it none at all. And if anyone ever mentions an incident involving me, intercepted smuggling goods, an unfortunate failure of my skill at identifying alchemical substances and two pounds of highly refined moon sugar, they are lying through their teeth.

Just saying.

Ajira was not looking at me as if I was mad, I noticed. Instead, she looked as if she knew exactly how I was feeling. Which she probably did. Two days? I have no idea how she managed to escape sane.

"It was said to aid in your escape, but Ajira _would_ like to speak about alchemy," she said.

I flinched. Expecting me to participate in another interrogation? Voluntarily? Clearly I'd been mistaken. Ajira had not escaped sane, she just faked it very well.

Clearly, my thoughts must have been written clearly on my face because Ajira hurriedly added, "not like that!" She took a breath. "I have no wish to test your knowledge. Nor the knowledge needed to do so," she added self-deprecatingly. "Ajira is very, very interested in alchemy, in the making of potions, yes? But she is not very skilled, just a beginner in the art. And there are no others here with the knowledge and inclination to help her learn."

"Oh. Of course." I said. Then it sank in. "Wait, you want to learn from me, of all people? Are you mad? I'm barely an amateur myself!"

"You did not sound one when Estirdalin questioned you," Ajira argued. "The Dunmer spoke about using repeated distillation as a technique for reducing the length of draining effects. That is not something Ajira has ever come across before."

I took a moment, then realised that 'the Dunmer' was probably supposed to be me. "Oh, that's just a trick I picked up somewhere."

"You mentioned quite a few such... tricks." Now Ajira sounded petulant.

"But they're really nothing special," I tried to argue. "Just shortcuts and cheats to make up for the lack of real knowledge."

Ajira didn't say anything. She just stared at me soulfully.

I looked into her green eyes and felt myself wilt. Ajira was still quite young as Khajiit went, and the way she made her eyes go wide and fur puff out made her look like a sad kitten. I've been accused of being heartless before, but even I can't possibly say no to that.

"Fine," I groused, "I'll try to teach you what I can. But!" I added sternly when I saw Ajira's eyes light up, "in return _you_ teach _me_ about the local ingredients, where to find them, their properties and all that."

"Easily done," Ajira purred. "Ajira does not know much herself, but Ranis has assigned to her a report about the local plants. This way, she can kill two cliff-racers with one fireball."

I blinked. That was a variation on the old proverb I hadn't come across yet. "What are cliff-racers and why would you need to kill them?"

"If you haven't come across them yet, treasure your innocence," the Breton (who had been eavesdropping on our conversation so obviously I'd had to fight the urge to go over and explain to her how to listen in properly) tossed in from the other side of the room. "They're terrible, terrible pests and all over the place these days. So much for the much-vaunted Ghostfence if it can't even keep simple animals in the Ashlands where they're supposed to be."

"Oh, and you think the Ghostfence was made to keep in cliff-racers, do you, Masalinie?" a gravelly voice interrupted. Apparently Marayn had also been listening in (and much better than Massilein, at that. I silently congratulated him.) "You think the Tribunal is so worried about us having to deal with flying reptiles, of all things, that they created the Ghostfence just so no one had to worry about them?"

Misanalie tossed her head. "And I suppose you believe all the stories about some ancient evil sitting under Red Mountain?"

Marayn frowned. "I'm no member of the Temple. But there's _something_ there, that's for sure. Or where do you think the Blight comes from? Or how about... corprus?" His voice was oddly hushed on that last word. "I tell you, the creatures inside the Ghostfence are beyond description. Not that you would know. When was the last time you visited Ghostgate, Masalinie? This year? Last year? Oh, right – never. That was it."

"I have important duties here," Masa- Masi- the Breton (I mentally gave up on her name) snapped. "And besides-"

I would have liked to continue listening to the discussion; I didn't have a single clue as to what they were talking about (what was this "Ghostfence", anyway?) but seeing people yelling at someone not me is something of a novel experience and I like to partake of it whenever I have the opportunity. However, at this point Ajira tugged on my sleeve.

"What are you- oh, right," I sighed when I saw her expectant eyes. "Alchemy."

oOoOo

I had been highly dubious about the arrangement – really, after Estirdalin, it was a wonder I hadn't run screaming for the hills the moment Ajira had suggested it, especially since my first impression of her was more along the lines of "clawed incarnation of fury" than "good working partner" – but it actually seemed to be working well. I'd been keeping an escape route in mind in case this turned into yet another interrogation, seeing as I figured I'd fulfilled my quota for the next three lives at least, but it turned out to be unneccessary - and once away from Galbedir Ajira actually turned out to be friendly and quite easy to get along with, leading me to suspect that the blame for the obvious feud was mostly the Bosmer's. And although we started with Ajira asking me probing questions about the various tricks I'd picked up to get the most out of shoddy equipment, I soon figured out that Ajira had a few things hidden up _her_ sleeve as well, and from there the whole thing quickly devolved into shop talk.

I surprised myself with how intensely I enjoyed the conversation, which ranged from a debate about whether skooma pipes could be used as reasonable substitutes for alembics (that one ended with me deciding to get hold of one and show her that you can make perfectly acceptable potions with them, although I figured I should probably wait until the other guild members weren't around lest they get the wrong impression) to methods of determining the effect of some unknown plant other than the classic of slipping it into your rival's food and watching closely to see what happened. Even the short break we took to arrange lunch made me impatient. Clearly, it had been far too long since I'd had any form of intellectual stimulation.

An immense surprise, I'm sure. After all, everyone knows that prison is the perfect place to have conversations about the minutiae of obscure branches of alchemy and-

Actually, it probably _is_. Except that poisons have never quite managed to capture my interest – not the proper thing for my career plans, you understand, and I think it might give the wrong impression – and I don't think the potential conversation partners are all too interested in sharing their knowledge.

At any rate, I was veritably starved for intelligent conversation on a subject in my area of interest, and from what she'd said about the other guild members' interest in alchemy I suspect Ajira was likewise. We didn't just continue the conversation over lunch, no, we started the practical experiments over lunch. For a while, anyway. Nine out of ten alchemy instructors will tell you that mixing food and alchemy is a bad idea. Now, I would generally merrily ignore this kind of advice, as nine out of ten alchemy instructors are stodgy boring old men who've probably never worked with an untested ingredient in their lives. However, on rare occasion they are actually right – and this was definitely one of them, I had to admit as I poured the third antidote down Ajira's throat. (It took two more until her face finally regained its normal colour.)

I apologised profusely to Ajira, because I suspected it was me who'd splashed the bittergreen-gravedust mix onto her scrib jerky. Luckily, she didn't seem inclined to hold a grudge. "It could have happened to me just as easily, friend Adryn," she said once she could talk again. "Ajira should watch what she eats."

I noted that I had been upgraded from "the Dunmer" to "friend Adryn" post-poisoning. So poisoning people made them like you more? This did not line up with my usual experience of the world.

We both decided it was probably wiser to leave all practical experiments until after lunch. As we were both very eager to test whether the bittergreen-gravedust mixture had any other effects than making Khajiit change colour, this had the unintended side-effect of turning lunch into something that looked more like an eating contest. (I won.) We were back at the alembic before we'd even swallowed the last bite.

It turned out the bittergreen-gravedust mixture was pretty much worthless, but then I mentioned that I wondered how that poisoning effect compared to the way the mushrooms worked (I swear I was telling the truth about not wanting to be an assassin – this was purely intellectual curiosity!) as I'd done some tests but had focused more on the water-walking effect...

Ajira's tail went ramrod-straight. Apparently I'd captured her interest. "You have experimented with the mushrooms?" she asked.

"Well, yes," I answered, slightly puzzled. "Just yesterday. I wasn't able to do much with them, so I still have-"

"You have samples?" Ajira interrupted me, excited. "Ajira has been looking for those mushrooms for days now!"

I found this statement rather puzzling, seeing as the swamp was filled with the things. All Ajira would have had to do was to take the silt strider to Seyda Neen and walk off the platform in order to have more mushrooms than anyone could ever need within reach. And I was sure there was swampland near Balmora too. What on earth was wrong with Ajira that she had to wait for me to bring her mushrooms and not collect her own?

Luckily, this was one of the few occasions that my brain was faster than my mouth, meaning I did not ask or point out any of that out loud. Being "friend Adryn" was very nice and all, but I didn't really want to test how far that title went.

Instead, I got my pack from the corner I'd tossed it in and rummaged through it. Mortar and pestle... water skin... the shirt I'd bought at Arrille's... I wondered if Ajira would stop staring at me if I asked. Possibly, possibly not, possibly she would do something quite violent to me for asking. Mentioning the mushrooms seemed to have unbalanced her – were they hallucinogenic? Addictive? Had I accidentally got myself involved in the drug trade?

I firmly banished such wild flights of the imagination (Ajira as a drug dealer? Really, now), shoved a change of underthings to the bottom of the pack before the Khajiit spotted them and found myself very, very grateful that I had decided to drop off the Imperial package before stopping by the Mages' Guild. I doubted Ajira would have asked any questions, but her seeing it might have caused problems.

Finally, I rose from my crouch clutching my ingredient vials triumphantly. I really had no idea how they'd managed to work themselves to the bottom of my pack, upside-down. Then again, it's always the case that what you need is at the very bottom, no matter where you put it to begin. My theory is that invisible Daedra rearrange your belongings in order to keep whatever you need most at any given moment as far away from you as possible. Miniature scamps, maybe. Judging by what I've read, it seems the kind of thing they would do.

Ajira almost snatched the vials out of my hands, staring at them avidly. The gleam in her eyes made me start giving more and more credence to my drug theory. (Dealer, no. Addict, on the other hand? I mean, she _was_ a Khajiit.)

"Um, Ajira," I asked cautiously. "What do you need these for, exactly?"

Ajira blinked. "Ranis Athrys has asked Ajira to study the local mushrooms. Ranis asked a week ago, and she has been getting rather impatient. But Ajira could not find the mushrooms, none of her suppliers stocked them."

At this point, my brain decided to prove that its recent victory over my mouth had been a fluke. "But why don't you just go out into the swamp and get some?" I blurted out. "They're everywhere!"

The dark look Ajira gave me almost made me take a step back. "Go out? Into the wilds? Impossible. It is far too dangerous."

Remembering the E.R.D.s, I had to agree that the place wasn't exactly harmless. Still, considering how ubiquitous the mushrooms were, the relative number of trees and the climbing abilities of rats, I felt Ajira was exaggerating.

"It's really not that bad. I mean, sure the wildlife is pretty dangerous, but-" Ajira scowled more and more as I went on, and I knew shutting up right now would be the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, I couldn't make myself stop talking. "-you can always run, or climb trees, or-"

"There are dangers here other than the wildlife," Ajira snapped. "Not that the _Dunmer_ would know about that."

I blinked, both at the odd stress put on my race and at the fact that I'd apparently been demoted. It hurt more than I'd expected, considering I'd only known Ajira for a few hours and had spent most of that time trying to get over... unfortunate first impressions. "Of course I wouldn't. I've only been here for a day," I responded, unable to keep an injured tone from creeping into my voice.

Ajira blinked, and her expression lightened again. I had the odd impression that she was looking at me rather than through me for the first time since we started talking about mushroom collection expeditions. "Ajira is sorry, friend Adryn. I had forgotten you are not native Dunmer."

Meaning that if I had been native Dunmer, her getting angry at me would have been entirely justified? Mysteries within mysteries. Still, I was happy enough that Ajira had got over her snit that I didn't really want to get her angry again by trying to figure out what it had been about.

"Complete newcomer, that's me," I said cheerfully instead. "Entirely ignorant of anything that goes on on this island – it _is_ an island, right? I mean, for all I know it could be an oddly-shaped peninsula. Or land-locked, and the coast is just an optical illusion perpetrated by bored wizards. Really, the main thing I know about this country is what its mushrooms look like."

Ajira laughed. It sounded oddly forced. "Then let us consider the mushrooms, friend Adryn."

oOoOo

We spent the rest of the day considering mushrooms. First we replicated my water-walking potions, using an orangeish waxy substance Ajira called "kwama cuttle" as we didn't have any scales to hand. When one of the greenish ones ("luminous russula", according to Ajira) accidentally made its way into the mix, we discovered that these mushrooms had not a water-walking but a water-breathing effect. It'd be handy for any underwater explorations, I supposed, if it weren't for those dratted fish.

Of course, we also discovered that the two types of mushrooms combined created a poison that _wasn't_ destroyed in the boiling process, unlike when they were used separately. Luckily, after Ajira's previous misadventure we'd kept the antidote potions close to hand.

It was already quite late when we turned our minds to the other two types of mushrooms, the distinctly similar-looking brown ones I'd found growing on tree trunks. It seemed that no matter how you sliced, ground, beat to a pulp, stewed, boiled, or – well, no matter which way you prepared them, the only effect they had was of draining some attribute of yours. And a different one each time, to boot. By the time we found the fifth one, I was wondering whether some capricious Daedric Lord had placed these on the island as a trap for the unwary traveller. "Oh no, these mushrooms aren't poisonous!" I can already hear people say. "Of course, they _will_ make you slow, tired, clumsy, weak, frail, and probably result in your collapsing defenseless and getting eaten alive by E.R.D.s But no, they're not poisonous at all!" Come to think of it, that sounds rather like Sheogorath's brand of humour.

Still, pretty much anything you can find has some beneficial use, however hard to discover. I argued about this with Ajira over dinner; she had come to the conclusion that Ranis Athrys was making fun of her and the mushrooms were entirely useless for any practical purposes.

"Well, I wouldn't call them useless exactly," I said thoughtfully. "That sort of thing can be pretty handy. I mean, say you ever have someone you don't want to make ill, but do want to... hmm... teach the error of their ways, say. You have a whole range of options! You could make the person clumsy, easily manipulated, or-"

Ajira's eyes lit up with interest. "-stupid. Yes. A very interesting proposal, friend Adryn. I shall have to think about it. Gal- well, Ajira might possibly be able to come up with a use." I hid a smile. "But," and Ajira's whiskers drooped, "this is _not_ something Ranis shou- er, wishes to hear about, I am sure."

I wasn't so sure myself, but kept this to myself. Ajira seemed convinced the guildmistress was an honourable, upstanding member of the community, which is the sort of ludicrously unlikely claim I will only consider when supported by a great deal of evidence. On the other hand, if Galbedir's fried ash yams were indeed going to meet with an alchemical accident in the near future it was probably best Ajira didn't let her intentions slip to the guildmistress.

"Still, even aside from that... I'm sure there must be something we're missing," I said for the fourth time. It was – I admit it – a highly uncharacteristic show of patience. Ordinarily, I didn't even bother to repeat myself at all; maybe it was something in the water.

If it was, however, it certainly hadn't affected Ajira. "You have said that already!" Her claws scraped against the wood of the table and I winced. "I do not think we are missing anything, I think there is nothing to find!" She took a deep breath and then continued, slightly calmer. "I have no wish to waste any more of my time, friend Adryn. You may continue with the experiments if you wish, but I have other duties I must attend to."

"Suit yourself," I told her. "I'll tell you what they do in the morning."

"Ajira shall look forward to hearing you agree with me that they are entirely useless," she retorted.

And with that, the challenge was on.

I was going to find a beneficial effect in those damned mushrooms if I had to put it there myself.

...although I rather hoped I wouldn't have to put it there myself. Although I was relatively sure I could pull it off, academic dishonesty was not quite how I hoped to begin this section of my life, and if Ajira found out she would probably never forgive me.

Once dinner was over, Ajira wandered off, presumably to attend to those "other duties" she had mentioned. I didn't pay her any mind, as I was busy slavering over the equipment. Of course, I'd been using it earlier, but now I had it _all to myself_. So it was really entirely different. And Ajira had left me the rare ingredients, too!

I sternly reminded myself that using up Ajira's entire supply of ground gemstones and Daedra skin would definitely not go over well, no matter how tempting it was, and got to work.

In the beginning, it was immensely frustrating, as I checked for effect after effect and failed to find any of them. I would probably have given up, except that this was no longer an intellectual puzzle but a challenge and my innate stubbornness refused to let me admit defeat. I could only hope that this time it wouldn't get me in trouble.

Finally, long after the other mages had left for their respective homes - I was apparently the only homeless guild member - my efforts were rewarded. A soft glow from a test tube heralded an active effect.

"Detect Enchantment!" I exclaimed, taking full advantage of the empty guild hall in order to indulge in self-conversation. (Call it eccentric, but I rather like talking to myself when nobody is around to comment on it. I figure it is understandable, given that I so rarely get the chance to speak to someone intelligent.) "No wonder we couldn't find anything earlier, who would have expected a Mysticism effect in a mushroom, of all things?"

I was about to turn back to the sample when something occured to me.

"...I wonder if it's the same for the other one?"

It was almost anticlimatic after so much work – the first thing I tried, a Dispel effect, worked. Mystic mushrooms, now I'd really seen it all.

I triumphantly left a scribbled note on Ajira's desk describing the two effects, squashing the urge to add a "Told you so!", "So there!" or "Nyah nyah" at the end. I left it prominently displayed on her desk where she couldn't possibly miss it, then turned my attention to cleaning up.

Ordinarily, the prospect of tidying up that mess would have seemed rather daunting. But I was in extremely high spirits and tackled the task with gusto. I even whistled to myself as I worked. Or rather, blew air through my lips and occasionally managed to produce sound by accident, but I figured it was close enough. I'd been able to properly immerse myself in alchemy for the first time in far too long, won the little challenge Ajira had set for me and even had a credible reason for having used up half her supply of ground pearl. Life was good.

Still, I found myself yawning more and more often. My body was informing me, more and more insistently, that it did not particularly care about alchemy, challenges or the general positive slant of life – no, it was more concerned with the fact that I had slept very badly the night before and it was now already long past the time where good little Dunmer should be in bed. Spoiled things, bodies are – you would think that after having slept for three days before, it would be able to handle a little sleep deficit more graciously. But no; it was all I could do to keep my eyes open as I set the last flask to dry. I stumbled into the sleeping area and managed to get changed into my nightclothes more by feel than by design. In fact, I rather suspected I'd accidentally put on my nightgown backwards and inside-out, but couldn't really bring myself to care. Clothes did not matter. Sleep was what mattered.

For the second night in a row, I collapsed into bed and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.


	3. Flowerpicking excursions gone wrong

**Review responses: **First, thanks everyone for reviewing! I honestly wasn't expecting any. :)

_Shichimon_ - thank you! Yes, one of the things that spurred this was that I really wanted to have fun with a character who is not super-skilled (and is, in fact, pretty much a noncombatant at the moment.) The way I figure it, just playing the game and following the main quest will get your MC up to Bethelwrought the Mighty status in terms of combat ability etc. eventually so there's no need to start off that way! Sorry you're finding the long chapters a pain, they do sort of just come out that way. If it helps, chapter 1 was unusually long, they usually end up around 8-12k words.

_irishman91 - _I'm glad you're enjoying the story! And no worries, because I knew this section was dead I wasn't actually expecting _any_ reviews and am seeing any I do get as an unexpected bonus. **  
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**Chapter summary:** In this chapter, Adryn tries to be useful to the Mages Guild and goes gathering ingredients in the wilderness. When it comes to how this works out... well. An alternate chapter title I have been considering is "Adryn's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day".

**Warnings:** Some minor violence.

oOoOo

The next day, my nose woke before the rest of me.

Now, before anyone gets any odd ideas I should make it clear that I do not, generally, hold with the independence of body parts. Call me old-fashioned in that regard if you will, but I believe in the Daedric worship argument. After all, everyone knows that saying the odd prayer to Sheogorath will eventually lead to your spending your days in a Daedric shrine, mad and gibbering with your underpants on your head and sacrificing children's toys to the Prince of Madness. Oh, and voluntarily living with Orcs. If that's not a sure sign of madness, I don't know what is.

Anyway, it's just like that with body parts. One day it's your nose waking up ahead of you, the next your ears decide they're really bored spending all their time attached to your head and would really rather do a bit of travelling, and next thing you know your arms are off climbing mountains, your eyes are getting themselves thoroughly drunk in a tavern somewhere, your mouth is off doing something that shouldn't be mentioned in polite company and you're left with only your feet for company. No, you have to be firm about these things.

Regardless, that day my control was rather lax and my nose did, in fact, wake before the rest of me (it won't happen again, I swear). One moment I was deeply asleep, the next the most amazing scent filled my nostrils.

"Hmgrmpf?" I mumbled. As you can see, my nose was really being quite bold – even my tongue hadn't woken up yet, and most people I know tell me they doubt it ever sleeps in the first place.

It was really an absolutely delicious smell, and slowly the rest of me started to awaken as well. I cracked my eyes open and looked around blearily. There were several blurs in varying shades of blue and brown, as well as a brownish blob.

I closed my eyes, rubbed them, blinked fiercely and then gave it a second try.

This time, the interior of the Mages' Guild sleeping alcove filled my vision. The blue blurs had coalesced into my bed, a tapestry on the wall, a carpet and a curtain, separating the alcove from the main room. The brown blurs were the walls and the floor. The blob was Ajira.

I blinked at her. "Morning," I croaked.

"Good morning, friend Adryn." Ajira looked far too cheerful for the early hour. I bet _her_ organs hadn't made a desperate bid for freedom. That would ruin anyone's day. "I saw your notes. Mysticism!"

I remembered last night and a smile crept onto my face. I tried desperately to keep it from being too smug. "Yes. I know. Of course, it would take a very good alchemist with an enormous intuitive understanding of the ingredients to reach that conclusion." I paused. Probably better not to gloat too much. "Or alternatively, a lot of effort," I admitted. "I think I tried half of your ingredients before I found one that worked."

Ajira nodded. "Yes. Ajira noticed the depletion of her stores."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Um, I promise I tried to be careful and not waste anything." Well, somewhat tried. A little. I'd thought about it - that counted, right? "Will this get you into trouble with Ranis?"

"Oh no, oh no. After all, it was the honoured Ranis Athrys who gave Ajira the task to begin." She smiled; always a terrifying sight with a Khajiit. "And since I am not, after all, a great alchemist with an excellent intuitive understanding of the ingredients..."

We shared a conspirational nod.

Throughout the conversation, I had been trying to trace the scent that had woken me up. Now, I finally managed to make the connection between it and the small brown bag Ajira was holding. "Say, what is that?" I asked, trying to sound off-hand.

It might even have succeeded; unfortunately, my stomach chose that moment to give a loud rumble.

Ajira chuckled. "Breakfast, as friend Adryn may have guessed."

"Ajira," I proclaimed, "you are a pearl - no, a diamond, a shining diamond among Khajiit. Stendarr himself could learn from your thoughtfulness. I love you." I paused. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

Ajira waved it off. I suspected she was blushing somewhere under all that fur. "Nothing, nothing. Some of the Mages' Guild take their breakfast at the Eight Plates each morning - the honoured Estirdalin has an arrangement with the proprietress. Ajira asked to have some extra for her good friend Adryn, as no one had informed her of this." Her whiskers twitched. "She got very much, very fine food, much less trouble than she was expecting - have you spoken with Dulnea Ralaal before?"

I nodded. "I stayed there yesterday night - I appear to have made a good impression." I eyed the bag. "So. Breakfast?"

oOoOo

Breakfast was fresh rolls with scrib jelly. The scrib jelly tasted the same as it had the day before; the rolls, on the other hand, were delicious. They were still warm from the oven and spiced with something I couldn't identify (I was beginning to get rather sick of that). Whatever it was, it tasted amazing.

Ajira kept me company while I stuffed myself, chatting all the while. It was from her that I learned these were rolls Dulnea made especially for the Mages' Guild each morning - which explained why I hadn't had any yesterday - and that they were flavoured with dried fire fern. Dulnea also always made a goodly-sized pot of her special tea each morning, as the mages all loved it; Marayn swore his spells worked half again as well that day if he'd had a cup. Unfortunately, Ajira hadn't been able to think of a way to keep it hot on the way and thus hadn't been able to bring me any.

"Fire spell?" I said brightly after swallowing down the last mouthful.

Ajira glared.

"Joking! Joking!" I held up my arms, palms outward, in the universal sign of surrender. "What's in that drink, anyway?" The addition was partially to distract Ajira, but mostly because I was genuinely curious.

"She says it is a secret recipe."

"And you didn't try to figure it out?" I was scandalised. And she calls herself an alchemist?

"Of course." Ajira sounded affronted. "But it is a difficult one, very blended, many reactions between the ingredients. Ajira believes, though, that one of the ingredients is the leaf of scathecraw - it is a plant from the Ashlands, and restores willpower. It also has a smoky taste, though much stronger and more acrid than Dulnea's drink."

"If she's managed to mitigate the taste of a potion without lessening the effect, I want to know how," I said immediately.

"So would I," Ajira agreed, just as promptly. "I would not need to work and work to make Journeyman, I would be able to write a text on taste-improving measures in alchemy and make Magician right away!"

"Not if I got there first."

"A joint work then, friend Adryn?"

"That sounds acceptable, friend Ajira."

At that point, we both collapsed in giggles. As if alchemists hadn't been searching for these things for as long as the subject has existed! After all, we don't enjoy brewing concoctions that taste so vile you have to hold your nose to choke them down...

Well.

Maybe sometimes.

It all depends on who's _drinking_ the potion in question, after all.

That line of thought made me think of the conversation I'd had with Ajira about the uses of draining potions, which made me think of Galbedir. Was she one of the Mages' Guild members that had their morning meal at the Eight Plates each day? With Ajira? I'd only seen the two together once, but I couldn't possibly imagine that would go well.

"Who is it that eats at the Eight Plates?"

"Ajira, Masalinie, Estirdalin and Marayn, almost always. Galbedir, rarely." Ajira's whiskers twitched in precisely the manner of an affronted cat. You could practically read 'not rarely enough' over her head; I had to hide a smile. "Sharn gra-Muzgrob and Ranis Athrys, never. Sometimes visitors from other halls, if they are here at this time - friend Edwinna from Ald'ruhn comes often, as do Sirilonwe and Craetia from Vivec. Eraamion from Caldera is less often, but almost all of the Sadrith Mora guild stop by regularly..."

I nodded, letting the unfamiliar names flow past me. Many guildhalls on this island, apparently - and me without a map, to boot.

"...those are most of the people," Ajira was finishing up.

From what she'd said, it sounded as if a veritable battalion ate at the Eight Plates each morning. I wondered how on earth I'd missed them the previous day. "Is this the major guildhall on the island, then?" I asked. "It sounds as if everyone comes here to do business."

Ajira shook her head, then shrugged. "No. But then again yes. It is a difficult thing."

"How so?"

"On the Aedra's side, no. The main guildhall is in Vivec, under the governance of the greatly honoured Archmage Trebonius. Vivec is also the largest city, with the most trade, the most people, the most governance, and the palace of one of the gods of the Tribunal," my skepticism probably showed clearly on my face at that point, but Ajira didn't notice, "so it is where everyone should go for the important things. But on the Daedra's side, the Vivec guildhall is a bit... odd."

"What do you mean by odd?" I asked, fascinated, but Ajira hemmed and hawed a bit and shuffled her feet until I was afraid her claws would tear holes in the carpet. Apparently she wasn't quite ready to discuss gossip that bordered on treasonous with a guild member who'd only been in the guild for a day. Again, I couldn't really blame her.

"Is there anything else friend Adryn needs?" she was asking now, looking a bit guilty at not answering my question.

"No. Wait, actually, yes," I contradicted myself. "Could you leave for a moment?" I gestured down at myself, sitting on the bed with crumbs on my lap, still in my sleeping clothes. "I need to get changed."

* * *

><p>Getting changed wound up taking longer than I thought - first I noticed a curtained alcove containing a bucket filled with water as well as a wash-cloth and some soap and decided to take the opportunity to clean up a bit, then I couldn't find my skirt, then I couldn't find my left shoe... losing track of your belongings in that short a time period and that small a room takes skill, but apparently I had it in spades.<p>

Holding my shoe aloft triumphantly after retrieving it from under the closet, I spared a moment to be profoundly grateful that Ajira hadn't come bursting in to see what was taking so long. She'd reacted with complete incomprehension when I'd tried to explain why, exactly, I'd prefer not to have her watching me while I got changed, leading me to suspect that Khajiit didn't have a nudity taboo. As a result, I'd been half-expecting her to yank open the curtains while I was in the middle of my morning ablutions. Something best avoided, especially given that I'd heard the rest of the guild return by now.

Finally, I'd managed to put on the new clothes I'd bought from the clothier the day before - the feeling of soft linen against my skin and the sight of my reflection in a lovely embroidered robe immediately banishing all the doubts I'd had about spending so much of my money on clothes - and got my hair as tidy as I possibly could. (In my case, this means I look as if I got hit by a Spark spell half an hour ago instead of two minutes. Relative improvement is the key.) I poked my head outside the alcove, already preparing apologies for having taken so long.

I admit it - I was half-expecting Ajira to be impatiently shifting from foot to foot in that way only Khajiit can quite manage. (The twitching tail and the vibrating whiskers add a certain _something_ that man and mer can't quite match.) I was therefore half-disappointed when I realised that she wasn't waiting for me at all. As far as I could tell, she'd retreated behind the alchemy desk, but she was hard to make out because the alchemy desk was surrounded by a veritable throng of people.

"...three standard-grade potions of rising force, ninety drakes..." I overheard, and was quite tempted to smack my forehead for being such a fool.

What had I been thinking? Of course Ajira would have other duties than to experiment with a newcomer to the guild. Balmora was quite large, she was the only alchemist in the only mages' guild, obviously a lot of her time would be eaten up with selling potions to the townsfolk.

Which left me at somewhat loose ends.

I looked around the room, hoping that I could ask one of the other members whether they had something for me to do. Marayn was engrossed in showing a Dunmer girl how to form a fireball. Sharn gra-Muzgrob was taking notes on a book, with a scowl on her face that promised dire retribution on anyone who interrupted her. Merrylice, I mean, the Breton was busy... I stared into her corner, trying to figure out what was going on.

There was a queue of people leading up to her. One by one, they would step onto the raised stone platform, coins exchanged hands, she would close her eyes in deep concentration and cast a spell, then they'd vanish. I'd heard people talk about a Mages Guild teleportation service before - apparently they had one here. Well, either that or she had a good racket running with a local suicide cult. But I couldn't believe this place was so dreadful to make that many people want to end their lives - if only because I was living here now myself and I had to keep myself upbeat somehow.

Anyway, although I was highly curious as to how this teleportation thing worked exactly - judging by the hand gestures it was a Mysticism-based spell, and that was the area of magic I was most interested in - several minutes of watching Lassimine did not give me any grand insights. In fact, since it's not possible to work out the structure of a spell from the casting, the only insight I gained was that even such an extraordinary sight as people disappearing into and appearing from the aether gets remarkably boring after a while.

That left Estirdalin.

I decided I'd wait until Ajira had a spare moment. Maybe grab one of the books on the nearby table to read...

"Friend Adryn!"

Or maybe I didn't have to wait that long.

I walked over to Ajira, who seemed to have hit a lull in her stream of customers. "I see you're busy today." I tried very hard to keep an injured tone from creeping into my voice.

"Ajira is very sorry," the Khajiit said, whiskers drooping. "But she closed the shop most of yesterday to do experiments with friend Adryn, so today she must be very busy, sell many potions, to make up for it." Now she was making me feel guilty. "And when she is done, she must write the report on the mushrooms, which is a very bori- very simple task, too simple to trifle friend Adryn with." I hid a smile. "So Ajira cannot do any experiments today, even though she very much wishes to."

"Don't worry, I completely understand," I assured her, then added plaintively, "...do you have any ideas what I can do today, then?"

Ajira's eyes brightened. "Actually, it is good that you ask. The honoured Ranis Athrys came by earlier, said that Ajira needs to write _two_ reports instead of just one to be considered for journeyman as she is working with a partner."

"I'm really sorry about that," I said, wincing.

She waved it off. "It is much more interesting and much faster progress with a partner, so I do not mind so much. However, second report is to be on four types of flowers, and Ajira needs samples of those flowers. They are called gold kanet, stoneflower, heather and willow, and they grow in many places. Closest to here is on shores of Lake Amaya, to the east."

I gulped as what Ajira was asking me to do became apparent. "Uh, are you sure about this? There isn't anything I could do within town?" I sighed as Ajira cast a pleading look at me. "It's not that I want your project to fail, it's just that I don't want to be eaten by the wildlife-"

"Oh, but the regions are quite safe!" Ajira protested. "There is an Imperial fort along the path," she wasn't really selling this, "and a shrine on Lake Amaya, so Temple makes certain that roads are safe for pilgrims. And it is not far from Balmora, so there should be people. And when friend Adryn returns with the flowers, we can experiment with them to-"

"All right, all right!" I interrupted her. (No, I do not lose any vestige of common sense upon hearing the word "experiment". Why do you ask?) "I'll do it! What do these flowers look like, and how do I get to Lake Amaya?"

As Ajira wrote down some directions on a sheet of paper for me, I had to suppress a groan - after all that time hunting down lost shoes, I'd have to get changed yet again. Embroidered robes were, after all, not quite the thing in which to be wandering around the wilderness.

* * *

><p>And so a short time later I found myself at the gate to Balmora, in the same scratchy, ill-fitting clothes I'd been so glad to get out of yesterday, Elone's shortsword at my side. I groaned quietly to myself when I realised that it hadn't even been two days since I entered the place. I'd really hoped to be able to stay in town for longer; adventuring is not my idea of a good time. I claim the problem is too much sanity, although some people would disagree with that, and a distinct lack of appreciation for pain, gaping wounds, and near-death experiences.<p>

As I made my way through the gate, I eyed the silt strider cautiously; Darvame had assured me that they weren't dangerous on the trip from Seyda Neen, but I was skeptical. What, exactly, is a flea that size meant to eat? Trees? Swamp muck? Given that fleas the usual size generally live off blood, _people_ seemed the number one possibility to me, all protestations of their handlers to the contrary. Undoubtedly they were trying to avoid bad publicity; after all, who would ever be mad enough to pay to ride on one if it might see you as a portable snack?

I looked at the road rising sharply into the mountains, remembered the gentle, swaying movement I'd experienced the day before last - had it really only been two days ago? - and admitted that they had at least one person. My legs, still weakened from prison, were stubbornly informing me that they'd happily run the risk of being flea food if it meant they'd get to rest a bit longer.

See, this is what comes of leaving your body parts independence. Popular vote.

My apparent lack of any instinct for self-preservation (for instance, "not hitching a ride on something that may think you are their lunch") wasn't going to be put to the test anytime soon, though. Before heading onto the road I'd asked Selvil Sareloth, the silt strider operator in Balmora, about his destinations - it pays to familiarise yourself with the quickest ways of leaving a place. Apparently he wasn't leaving for over an hour and then going north to some place called "Ald'ruhn", which apparently didn't sport the kind of flora I was looking for. (Well, Selvil didn't say "no" when I asked. But then again, he didn't say "yes" either. In fact, he didn't say anything at all as he was laughing too hard to talk; I cleverly deduced that Ajira's flowers did not grow in Ald'ruhn.) If I wanted to go anywhere near Lake Amaya, I'd have to wait until Darvame's noon trip back to Seyda Neen. Oh, and somehow get from a twenty-foot-tall moving insect to the ground without breaking all the bones in my body as she didn't stop until Seyda Neen either. Minor considerations like that.

I sighed, ignored the complaints from my legs and started walking. The silt strider was kind enough not to eat me; I nodded gratefully to it as I passed.

A few hours later, I'd got into my stride, my legs had given up complaining in favour of a grumble every now and then, and things didn't seem nearly that bad. After all, I was well-rested, well-fed, heading into the wilds with a sack full of empty reagent vials to find new, wild, untested ingredients - this last bit might not have been strictly true, but they were untested by me and that was the important part.

True, the trip had been somewhat unpleasant for a while as my device for fooling people into thinking I was actually dangerous, also known as a shortsword, kept working its way between my legs and tripped me several times. Finally, I decided to take it off my belt and strap it to my back instead and the trip immediately became much more comfortable. Of course, I suspected it wasn't anatomically possible for me to draw it from that angle, but it looked reasonably intimidating (reminding me vaguely of a drawing of Tiber Septim I'd once seen in a history book) and since I'd never actually _use_ it for fear of slicing off my own limbs, who cared?

The road was just emerging into green lands from the foyada, I could see aforementioned untested ingredients winking at me - the sun was even shining! Why, I was almost enjoying myself!

"You there!"

Here is a helpful tip for anyone exploring the wilds: never, ever start enjoying yourself. It invites trouble.

In this case, trouble came in the form of an old Dunmer woman standing a distance along the path, glaring at me.

"You! Outlander! Come here!"

Outlander?! I was thirty feet away from her and hadn't even opened my mouth! Did I have a sign saying "Not a native, please torment at will" hanging over my head or something?

I looked up. No sign.

"Are you deaf?"

Given that the woman didn't seem as if she was going to stop haranguing me anytime soon, I sighed and made my way towards her.

"Well, finally," the woman snapped. Up close, I realised that she wasn't actually that old, but her glare and pinched expression easily added several centuries to her apparent age. Also, she was wearing rough, homespun clothes - an odd contrast to her manner, which seemed better suited to a noble.

"I demand you take me to the fields of Kummu at once!"

As I was saying.

...wait, what did she just say?

"Fields of what?" I asked, puzzled.

The woman sniffed loudly. "I do not repeat myself, outlander."

"Well, how on earth am I supposed to know where the fields of Konni are?" I asked, exasperated.

"_Kummu._" I wondered whether to be helpful and point out that she had, in fact, just repeated herself, but decided against it. It would probably be best to prevent the situation from deteriorating. Even more, that was. "Even someone such as _you_ should have heard of the shrine at Kummu, where the great god Vivec helped a poor farmer who had lost his guar-"

"Look, I only landed two days ago!" I snapped. "How do you expect me to know all this? I thought Vivec was a city." Although come to think of it, as the name of a person it did seem vaguely familiar; I'd probably run across the guy in a book somewhere and then forgotten.

She looked at me as though I had turned into a bug- correction. She looked at me as if I had turned into a bug that was even more loathsome than the bug I had been previously. "_N'wah._" It was clearly some kind of insult. "The holy city of Vivec is, of course, named after the great god Vivec who is a member of the divine Almsivi, the-"

And she was off on a lecture about religion. As you can probably imagine, it wasn't exactly in accord with the Imperial Standards for Teaching, the ratio of information to ranting not quite being what it should. Still, the few scraps of information among the insults made me curious about this whole Temple business - for instance, apparently the city of Vivec was named after the god Vivec because _he actually lived there._ And not "lived there" like the Cult will tell you the Aedra live in their temples - actually had a body, wandered around, slept, ate and breathed, could be spoken to lived there. (Well, theoretically spoken to - I don't doubt that if I showed up at the door to his house the guards would remove me rather quickly.) At any rate, the whole business sounded far more interesting than the Nine Divines.

I decided that when I was back in Balmora I'd try to find a book or something to learn about this local religion, as this would undoubtedly be more informative and with a lesser chance of getting your nose bitten off than listening to the madwoman here.

"...outlanders who haven't even heard of Vivec!" said madwoman was winding down. "Now how am I supposed to get to the shrine?" She gave me a look as if I was now a loathsome bug who was entirely to blame for the situation she was in, which I found rather unfair.

"How were you planning to get to the shrine before you started accosting innocent passerby?" I demanded.

"I have a map," she responded loftily, drawing out a piece of parchment from her pouch. "However, it is entirely useless. The worthless trader that sold it to me should be taken out and beaten."

I peered at the map she was unfolding curiously, then blinked.

"Um. You're holding it upside-down."

"Nonsense!" she spat. "I'll let you know that my best friend is a renowned cartographer!"

"Look, I don't care who your friends are, you're still holding it upside-down! See," my finger stabbed at the parchment, "this says 'Balmora', at least it does from my perspective, but the way you're looking at it-"

"You are an illiterate barbarian; that is Tel Vos, in the Telvanni district in the far northeast."

I looked at the map again. "Nooo, I am quite sure I can read and that says 'Balmora'. See? B-A-L-M-O-R-A. Tel Vos-" my eyes searched the opposite corner of the map, "is over here." The madwoman started to splutter. I ignored her. "Also, if this is Balmora, and this is Lake Amaya, then we are currently _here_-" I pointed at a spot on the map just south of where the path left the foyada, "and since the Fields of Kummu are there, all you need to do is follow the path around the lake for a while to get there."

I'd say I was being kind, generous and helpful because I was simply a much better person than she was, but to be honest I really just wanted to rub her nose in her utter incompetence.

"Excellent. Then you will guide me there."

Note to self: Revenge never pays.

"Excuse me? When did I ever agree to this?"

I didn't realise bug-me could get more loathsome, but apparently I could. "A true Dunmer would be honoured to assist. Since you are an outlander, however..." she grimaced. "I suppose I must reward you."

My ears perked up when I heard the word "reward". (Not literally, mind. They may be large and pointed, but I am still not a Khajiit.) My purse had become much lighter yesterday, and I was uncomfortably aware that I would probably be expected to move out of the Guildhall at some point, never to mention pay for my food. I needed to find income somehow.

Besides, the shrine was only a short distance away. Surely it couldn't be that bad.

"Well, in that case..." I turned around and set off down the path.

* * *

><p>It was that bad.<p>

She was slow. She complained about how slow _I_ was while she lagged behind, and berated me for laziness when I stopped to let her catch up. And when I spotted some of the flowers Ajira had asked me to bring back and tried to pick some, she almost bit my head off.

"Outlander girls! Sitting and plucking flowers when a poor old woman is relying on them to complete her pilgrimage! No doubt you're planning to seduce some innocent young man-"

"I'm an alchemist!" I exclaimed, outraged. "I'm collecting ingredients for research!"

"A likely story," the horrible old woman hmphed. "I've heard the tales, you know - a bouquet of gold kanet flowers to the poor boy's parents once you've convinced him to run off with you. No, there will be no, no _flower-picking_ on this journey."

"You know, I agreed to be your guide, not your slave, so if you would stop ordering me around-"

"Pity, that. If you were my slave, I could beat some manners into you as you deserve. The ones on the plantation are very courteous."

Wait.

Wait, I couldn't possibly have heard that correctly.

"What do you mean, slaves on the plantation?" I asked weakly.

"Oh, did you think I simply sat about doing nothing all day, as if I were some worthless frill like you? No, I work for my living - I am a housekeeper at the Dren plantation," she said proudly.

"Look, I don't care where you work - do you mean that slavery is _legal_ here?"

"Of course it is. Even the Empire could not touch our ancient ways-"

And she was prattling on again while I stared weakly at the gold kanet flowers at the wayside and swallowed to keep myself from being sick.

Slavery. Legal.

Somehow, this made me realise like nothing before - not the giant fleas, or the strange flora (were those actually giant mushrooms in place of trees?), or the apparent insanity of the Empire's officials which ranged from giving me money to _inducting me into the Blades_ - that I was now in an alien country very, very far from anything and anyone I'd ever known before.

Given the route my thoughts were taking, it was probably a good thing that I spotted a triangular stone that looked vaguely shrine-like (it was gold and had something engraved on it) along the path at that point. I only have a small monthly allotment for melodrama, you see, and the way my thoughts were going I'd spend all of it on agonising about laws I couldn't change - very foolish, given that the universe hates me (I have ample evidence of this) and therefore I was bound to need it urgently later.

"Is that the shrine?" I asked, pointing.

"Of course it's not, you foolish girl!" the woman I was rapidly growing ashamed of sharing a species with snapped. Without, I would like to point out, bothering to turn around to look. "The shrine is a triangular golden stone surrounded by flowers-"

"-like the one in front of us?" I said through gritted teeth. "Could you at least look at what I'm pointing at before you start hounding me?"

Wonder of wonders, she actually did. "Why, it is the shrine! It must have been Almalexia's hand that led me here despite my guide's... shortcomings. I am certain you would have walked right past otherwise." Ignoring the outraged noises I was letting out, she walked over to the shrine, took something that looked rather like mud out of her pouch, then laid it in front of the shrine as she knelt and started to pray.

"Thank you for your humility, Lord Vivec. I-"

I couldn't help it. I started laughing.

Well, I said laughing. Truth be told, it started with a choked giggle that made its way out of my mouth despite all my efforts to frantically suppress it, then grew to the kind of hysterical cackle where you start to turn purplish grey from lack of air and need to hold onto solid objects in your vicinity (I chose a tree) lest you fall over.

She whirled around. If people could cast shockball with their eyes, I would have been a sparking pile of dust that moment. "What is the meaning of this outrageous behaviour?!"

"Humility." I managed to choke out. "Been berating me... the _whole_ way... making yourself out... so much better... and you pray for... humility?" Then I collapsed back into laughter.

"Your services are no longer required," she snapped icily. "You may go."

"Wait a minute," I said, slowly getting back into control of myself. "What about my reward?"

"Reward? Oh, yes, your...reward." She threw something at me; I caught it instinctively, looked at it, then felt every impulse I'd had to laugh die a sudden death.

It was the map.

The map that she'd probably got off a street vendor for two drakes.

"You found it so helpful, after all." She smiled at me. It was a horrible sight.

I gaped at her, mouth opening and shutting wordlessly.

Her smile grew wider. "Run along now, outlander."

What could I do? My moral compass may be a bit... awry... as some fetcher once put it, but I still draw the line at robbing old women. Even if they're clearly the spawn of Molag Bal.

I turned around and stalked off. Even the sound of the horrible fiend from Oblivion saying "I shall neither strut nor preen in vanity..." was no longer the slightest bit amusing.

Once I'd got myself well out of sight, I found a handy rock overlooking the shore, sat down on it and indulged in some well-deserved fuming. All right, I admit it, there may have been some sulking involved in between. And some rocks thrown into the lake, although I did manage to keep myself from throwing the map in too. I'd like to say it was because reason prevailed, but truthfully it was because one of my rocks hit a mudcrab, forcing me to relocate until it had calmed down, and after that I decided that I had best leave the scenery alone.

After all the wildlife had gone back to its business, I had finished fuming and Adryn's First Law of Adventuring (ask about the reward _before_ you accept the task) had been formulated, I considered doing what I had actually come here for, namely pick flowers; it was already well into the afternoon and my reagent vials were still yawningly empty.

Of course, as always the universe took me thinking "maybe I should actually do what I set out to do" as a signal to interrupt. In this case, the interruption took the form of a panicking Bosmer.

The Bosmer are Wood Elves, meaning that however tiny and unprepossessing they seem their abilities in the wilderness are unmatched by any of the other races. This explains why the first I noticed of him was when he burst out from a copse of trees nearby. It was obviously nothing to do with my not paying attention; the very suggestion is preposterous.

Anyway, due to said Bosmer's phenomenal ability at moving through woods undetected, he startled me rather badly. If I were a great warrior, I might have leapt up and instinctively slain him. Luckily for him, but unluckily for me, I am not a great warrior; I leapt up, discovered my shortsword had somehow come loose and worked its way through my legs again contrary to all the laws of nature that I knew of, and fell flat on my face.

Ow.

The Bosmer stopped panicking for a moment to ask "Are you all right?"

He interpreted the pained sounds I made as "no, I am perfectly fine, don't offer to help me up or anything like that," and started running around in circles babbling hysterically.

"-only suggested we come out here for a walk, but then he heard these noises in the underbrush and he's always been far too curious for his own good, I told him I _told_ him to leave it alone but he just had to investigate and now he's _gone_-"

"Wha-?" I mumbled as I sat up and carefully probed my nose.

"-this is what comes of becoming a mage, not enough common sense to fill a spoon in the whole guild-"

"Whu?" My nose was still in one piece. Good; I didn't think the Jiub look would suit me.

"-what am I going to do without him-"

My imagination chose that moment to helpfully illustrate 'me with the Jiub look'. "Ack! Horrible mental images!" I yelped. The result looked more like our twisted lovechild - and the mental image _that_ idea invoked made me seriously consider applying my Firebite spell to my own eyeballs.

The Bosmer stopped abruptly. "What?"

"What?" I responded.

"What did you mean by 'horrible mental images?'" I'm just going to point out here that it's a good thing I'm well aware that telepathy spells do not exist (or rather, if they do they're in the hands of great mages and not hysterical Bosmer) and therefore I knew he could not possibly have known what I'd just been thinking. It saved him from a horrible messy fate.

"Nothing," I said. "What were you talking about? Who went missing?" Seeing him look ready to start running around again, I reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Please stand still while talking, and don't use more than two commas in one sentence."

"It's horrible!" he wailed. "My friend Edras and I were out exploring. I'm from Pelagiad, but he's from Almalexia on the mainland so he doesn't really appreciate the hazards the way I do. When we heard strange noises in the underbrush, he wanted to investigate. I told him and told him, don't do it it's too dangerous, but he insisted and-" he correctly interpreted my stare as 'I can tell there is another comma coming up in that sentence' and paused. "He went off on his own anyway. And didn't come back! He's _gone!_"

The mer burst into tears. For one horrible moment I thought he was going to fling himself into my arms - as prevention, I gingerly propped him up against a nearby tree and stepped back to a safe distance.

Luckily, he seemed to compose himself reasonably quickly, sobs trailing off into just a few sniffles as he wiped at his eyes.

"I want to look for him, but it's- it's- I don't know what kind of creatures could be out there!" he sniffled. "Would you please help me find him?"

Staring at his tear-streaked face, I considered both Adryn's First Law of Adventuring and Adryn's First Law of Self-Preservation (_do not do things like this_). His height, soulful eyes and the way the snot was leaking out of his nose made him look rather like an upset little kid.

I sighed and mentally discarded both laws. "Okay, where was the last place you saw him?"

I'd say the way his face lit up was reward enough, but that would be a flat-out lie. You may find snot-covered Bosmer appealing, but if you do, I don't want to know.

Oh well. I was sure it wouldn't be that dangerous.

oOoOo

I nervously picked my way through the underbrush, and wondered what on earth had possessed me. (Possibly literally.) Since when did I do things out of the goodness of my heart? Since when did I not even ask for a reward? And since when did I think things like "it won't be that dangerous", when past experience should have told me that the universe takes things like that as an invitation?

Thoronor, as the Bosmer had introduced himself, had led me to the spot he'd left his friend and then mysteriously disappeared himself - "help me find him," my foot. "Do all the work for me while I take a nap somewhere," more likely. Which left me to look for strange noises and vanished mer alone, helpless and undefended-

I lost my train of thought when I stumbled over something on the ground, only just managing to catch myself against a tree. Luckily so, or else I would have fallen flat on my nose yet again, and I didn't feel like chancing the Jiub look _don'tthinkaboutit-_

I looked down to see what I'd tripped over, then blinked in surprise. It was a book, looking undamaged enough that I knew it couldn't have lain there long.

Thoronor had said something about his friend being a scholar, hadn't he? I admit I hadn't expected him to leave a trail of books behind, but it was certainly better than trying to use my (nonexistent) tracking skills. Never to mention that a scholar surely wouldn't miss one or two, and I was sorely in need of bedtime reading...

I picked the book up and looked at the front page.

"Mating habits of the wild kagouti?" I read out, puzzled.

"Oh yes, it's my thesis topic," a voice rang out from above me. I jumped about a foot, feeling as if someone had just hit me with a Spark spell. "For the Mages' Guild back home, don't you know. Um, I'm up here by the way."

I looked up and saw... a Dunmer in a tree. Which is, frankly, not a sight you see every day - Dunmer being somewhat conservative when it comes to precarious perches an unhealthy height above the ground as a rule. Definitely moreso than Bosmer... maybe his friend was rubbing off on him?

"Of course, when my friend Thoronor extended an invitation to visit him here in Morrowind, how could I possibly pass up the opportunity to see them in the wild!" the nesting mer - Edras, apparently - gushed.

At that moment, a horrible suspicion entered my mind. It was spurred by my brain helpfully choosing to remind me that I'd been tree-bound just a few days ago, after I'd climbed one to escape an E.R.D. near Seyda Neen.

"What exactly are kagouti?" I asked slowly.

"They're one of the species of animal native to Morrowind, particularly valued for their hide. They're predators, and apparently one of the most dangerous indigenous creatures here, although I admit I'd underestimated just how ferocious they are - that's why I'm up here." Edras cast down his eyes in embarrassment.

"You're hiding from dangerous wildlife and you didn't tell me earlier?!" my voice rose into a screech.

He looked puzzled. "But I'm just a simple scholar - you can clearly defend yourself."

It occurred to me that my "wear weapons to look dangerous and not be attacked by bandits" plan had just a few drawbacks I hadn't considered.

I was just about to angrily inform him that actually, the weapons were just for show, I was only armed with a lousy Firebite spell I'd never even used before and he shouldn't assume people he'd just met had no problems defending themselves from rampaging carnivores - preferably after finding a tree to hide in myself. Unfortunately, he rudely decided to spoil all my plans by saying, "Look! There's one now!"

Have you ever had one of those moments where you can almost _hear_ the gods laughing at you?

Slowly and carefully, I lowered my gaze from the mer in the tree back down to the ground (which I was starting to realise it never should have left.) And swallowed. Hard.

And I'd thought the E.R.D.s were bad - it looked as if they might be among the most harmless creatures this island had to offer. Certainly the smallest! Apparently a "kagouti" was a two-legged creature, with some sort of bone frill. And tusks. And teeth. Sharp teeth. Oh, and did I mention that it was almost as big as I was? Because it was almost as big as I was. This one was looking at me in a very disturbing way, and by "very disturbing" I mean "seems to be wondering how I taste". It was also between me and the nearest tree.

"Um. Nice... horned monster thing, very nice horned monster thing. You don't want to eat me, do you? I don't taste very good." Staring into its beady black eyes, I added, "Tell me how to get this thing to back down. Now."

"Well," came from the tree, "kagouti are very territorial, and will attack anyone who ventures near them." Okay. That was bad. "They also become far more aggressive when mating." Okay, that was very bad. "And kagouti interpret eye contact as a challenge." Okay, that was- wait a moment.

"You couldn't have told me that earlier?!" I yelped, tearing my gaze away from the kagouti's eyes.

It chose that moment to charge.

Cursing loudly, I leapt out of the way barely in time; the kagouti barrelled past me and slammed into the tree, which shook and then disgorged a shrieking scholar. I mentally winced when he hit the ground, but it wasn't that far and judging by the way he tried to sit up almost immediately after he clearly hadn't hurt anything important. Probably just his brain.

The kagouti backed away from the tree and looked back and forth between the two of us, puzzled - apparently two enemies were too much for its tiny brain to deal with. However, despite all my mental urging it seemed it considered me the greater threat; it turned towards me, let out a roaring sound and charged.

At this point, I have to admit something. Contrary to the way I grumble about my birth-sign, I am actually quite happy to be Lover-born rather than Lady. True, I do tend to get a lot of snide remarks and comments on "elven promiscuity" if I let it slip, not to forget the crass propositions, how _could_ I forget the crass propositions. However, our birth-signs have more influence over our lives than just how people react to them, and there is one gift of the Lover that is, frankly, a lot more useful than anything the Lady has to offer in a tight spot.

It was that gift I remembered at that moment. As the kagouti barrelled towards me, I concentrated and reached deep inside me for that power. Closer - I extended one hand - closer-

Just before the beast touched me, I willed it out. Green light spilled out from my hand, over the kagouti, which froze instantly.

Paralysis is such a handy effect.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the threat of horribly painful death was postponed, then suddenly remembered that the Lover's gift is a two-edged sword.

It felt as if all my energy had decided to run into the kagouti as well. My knees grew weak, my vision dark around the edges, I started to waver on my feet-

As if from a far distance, I heard Edras shout, "you did it! You killed it!" Then, more subdued, "...my observations..."

I hazily wondered whether the mer had honestly been so sheltered that he had _never seen a dead creature_ before.

"No," I managed to say, struggling against the fog that was engulfing me. "Not dead... you fool... kill it!"

The mer stared at me in confusion as my knees gave way.

"Kill... it..."

I could see when the fact that no, the kagouti was perfectly fine, just temporarily inconvenienced, sunk in. His skin turned greyish-green, and his mouth opened in a round O.

And then he turned around and ran away.

This was going to be such a humiliating way to die, I realised as I felt myself dragged into unconsciousness. I just hoped that once the kagouti was done with me, it would continue its murderous rampage and kill the cowardly mer, the damnable Bosmer who'd got me into this, that horrible old woman, and anyone else near the lake for good measure...

Darkness.


	4. An attempted return to Balmora

**Review responses: **Again, thank you everyone for reviewing! And I'm very sorry this chapter took longer than expected, real life got in the way... I'm afraid updates probably won't be very frequent from now on, but I will not abandon this fic.

_irishman91: _Glad you're still reading and enjoying! To each their own, but I've never been that interested in the Dark Brotherhood myself - and with Adryn I also mean to explore a character that's less violent than novelisation characters frequently are and definitely less than Dark Brotherhood characters.

_Noxae: _Thank you, and here is the fourth chapter - hope it lives up to your expectations!

_Shichimon:_ Thanks, I'm glad you like it!

**Chapter summary:** After being rescued from death-by-kagouti, Adryn attempts to return to Balmora. This proves more difficult than expected.

**Warnings:** Some nonexplicit sexual content.

oOoOo

When I came to, I quickly wished I hadn't. My body felt as if I had just run twenty miles without stopping. Up a mountain. With lead weights strapped to my limbs. While being chased by angry Imperial guards, who were possibly riding kagouti. (Could you ride kagouti? It might explain why I hadn't seen any horses here yet; either the native mounts all ate them or the native people connected 'riding' with 'being eaten', which would give even the most enthusiastic horsemer caution.)

Anyway, apparently I wasn't dead. I didn't think dead people were supposed to feel so _tired._

I groaned and slowly, with a superhuman amount of effort, cracked open my eyelids.

Scratch that. Apparently I was dead.

Giant humanoid insects weren't part of life as I knew it, at any rate.

I was too tired to sit up let alone run for my - life? Unlife? Being dead was becoming metaphysically quite complicated - despite the fact that every instinct of self-preservation I had and a few I didn't were screaming at me to get out of there _now!_ Instead, I just twitched feebly and tried to scream. It came out as more of a croak.

"Oh, you're awake!" the probable Daedra said. Bizarrely enough, it had a perfectly ordinary-sounding female voice in what I was coming to think of as a Morrowind accent.

"Don't kill me!" I wheezed, deciding to postpone further metaphysical ruminations until I was no longer in danger of being...

I stared at the Daedra and really wished I didn't have such a good imagination. Or vivid, for that matter.

"Kill you?" the Daedra repeated, sounding bemused.

"Or-" Really, _really_ wished. "Or whatever it is giant man-shaped insect Daedra do."

"I- ah. Um." It sounded as if it was trying to suppress laughter. "I guess you've never seen chitin armour before?" It reached up to its head and pulled-

Oh.

Apparently the native inhabitants thought armour made of giant insect shell complete with closed-face helmet that would not have been out of place on Mad Pelagius, or possibly in Oblivion, was an absolutely wonderful idea.

I took stock of my situation.

I wasn't dead after all. This was probably a good thing, but right at this moment I really didn't think so.

"Kill me now," I mumbled.

"Well, you've changed your tune, haven't you?" the Dunmer that had surfaced said with a grin. She looked slightly older than me and was quite pretty, with long black hair gathered in two braids. Or, to summarise: she did not look like a Daedra or a giant insect in any way, shape or form. "Don't worry, I'll blame it on the exhaustion. Speaking of which-"

A potion was held under my nose. "Here, drink this."

I sniffed at it.

"It's a fatigue restoring potion, completely harmless. Really, make up your mind, will you? Just a second ago you were begging me to kill you. Although if I'd wanted to kill you I had ample opportunity when you were asleep." She sounded affronted.

"I realised that." I hadn't, actually, and quickly drank the potion before she could question me about it. The rush of energy was very, very welcome.

"I didn't think you were going to poison me," I added once I'd regained my breath. "I'm an alchemist, and if I were to drink a potion without even trying to figure out what was in it I would have to turn in my mortar and pestle. It's a matter of professional pride."

"No need to explain. Most of my family are alchemists, I'm familiar with the mindset." She looked me up and down. "Are you feeling all right now? I can give you a second potion if you need it."

"No, I'm fine." My body still felt a little trembly and weak, but I knew from experience that that would have to pass on its own. (I briefly mourned the fact that I had had to use _that_ often enough that I had experience in the stages of recovery.)

I sat up and looked around. The threat of immediate death by insect Daedra, and then mortification at having mistaken someone for an insect Daedra and told them so, had completely distracted me from my surroundings.

Dusk had fallen in the time I was out. I was sitting on the ground with a blanket wrapped around me. It looked as though I was still in the clearing where I had faced the kagouti, except that the clearing was minus a paralysed kagouti and plus a non-Daedra Dunmer and a campfire with several pieces of meat roasting over it.

...actually, I thought I could guess what had happened to the kagouti.

Which still didn't explain who the not-an-insect-at-all Dunmer was or why I wasn't dead.

"Who are you?" When in doubt, ask, has always been my motto in life. Certain unkind people would have you believe this should be followed by 'and ask as bluntly as possible. Tact is for other people'. They would of course be lying through their teeth. After all, I only very rarely have to run for my life after using this, which should tell you how well it works.

"My name is Ervesa Romandas, and I'm a Buoyant Armiger." By the proud and slightly self-important look on her face, I knew she thought that should mean something to me.

"You're a... weapon that floats?" I hazarded.

Ervesa stared at me, then threw back her head and started laughing.

"I take it that means no," I said as I waited for her laughter to subside. I had to admit, I felt rather injured. It was a perfectly logical conclusion to come to, given the meaning of those words.

"N-no, I'm not a- weapon that floats," she managed between giggles. "The Buoyant Armigers are the elite warriors of the lord Vivec. We try to emulate his virtues of chivalry, combat and poetic mastery. Most of us are stationed at Ghostgate these days, but we also have a hall in Molag Mar, primarily for training and guarding the pilgrims at Mount Kand."

Half of those words hadn't meant anything to me, but the other half made them sound as if they were a cross between Imperial Knights without the Imperial part, religious warriors and bards. Since all three were on my 'avoid at all costs, it might be contagious' list, the combination could not possibly mean anything good.

"Well, in that case you should call yourselves 'Elite Temple warriors who also compose poetry' or something. 'Buoyant' makes you sound like you're, I don't know, some sort of boats," I pointed out while trying to inch away unobtrusively.

This made her start laughing again. I bristled - I'd only been pointing out a fact, after all. "It isn't that funny!" Maybe this was one of the signs of the mental instability inherent in the religious bardic knight combination. Although considering I'd been expecting something more along the lines of attempted stabbing while singing hymns, I could live with uncontrollable laughter.

Ervesa grinned. "It is, actually. I'll have to tell the others when I get to Ghostgate. But just so you know, the name was given to us by the lord Vivec. He founded our order from a group who gave him unexpected aid in battle, one where he was impressed by their courage and cheer."

I considered saying that this Vivec couldn't be that good a poet if he thought 'Buoyant Armigers' was a good name for anything other than bathtub toys, let alone an elite force of warriors. A small voice in my head pointed out that insulting the god of a dedicated religious knight would probably not go over very well, easygoing though she'd been so far. For once, I listened to it - bluntness is all well and good, but it's best to avoid mortally offending people in possession of sharp objects and the knowledge of how to use them. My track record in this regard wasn't the best, admittedly, but this was a fresh start. I had _resolutions._

Ervesa moved over to the fire and took out the chunks of meat. "I think these are about done. Are you-"

My stomach chose that moment to proclaim that actually, I'd neglected to take lunch with me and hadn't eaten since breakfast and that it did not hold with these sorts of shenanigans, thank you very much. Loudly. I glared at it. I'd had enough bodily rebellion for one day, thank you very much.

"Here, have two." Ervesa seemed to be suppressing a grin. I was tempted to scowl at her, but found my attention irresistably drawn to the sizzling haunches of meat she held out to me. My stomach's, as well. I silently thanked Dunmer heat resistance as I reached out to take them.

The meat tasted... not bad, I decided, except that it would taste much better if it were actually possible to chew it. The stuff had roughly the consistency of old boot. (And no, I don't care to explain how I know that.)

Ervesa must have read my thoughts - which were along the lines of of 'you call this _food?_' - off my face because she started chattering. "Roast kagouti isn't exactly the best food, I'm afraid. Too tough. Crab, guar or rat meat is what you usually get, or sometimes nix-hound - but since we happened to have dead kagouti lying around, well. Just be thankful it isn't alit. That's something you don't want to have to eat twice."

I noted with a sinking feeling that apparently this island had even more wildlife. Crabs, E.R.D.s and kagouti had seemed quite enough to put any travellers in fear of their lives. Once I got back to Balmora, I was not leaving that city again and I didn't care about anything Ajira said regarding wonderful fascinating untested flora... alchemy... _experiments..._

Where was I?

Oh, right, kagouti 'meat'. "Don't worry, this can be my revenge on it for trying to eat _me,_" I said once I'd managed to choke down the first bite. "After all, revenge is so much sweeter when it's slow and painful. I mean, I take it this is the same kagouti as the one..." I tried to think of a way to say 'I fainted in front of' that didn't sound completely pathetic.

Ervesa nodded. "It's lucky for you I came along, really. A Bosmer had sent me this way, said he was looking for his friend and that he didn't think the girl he'd sent was quite up to the job." My cheeks flushed in humiliation. The fact that it was so undeniably accurate made it worse - after all, I quite enjoy deluding myself about my capabilities. "Then his friend ran past me screaming, so I thought I'd better see what was going on. Found a paralysed kagouti and you unconscious on the ground in front of it." She raised an eyebrow.

"Um. Well." I usually try not to talk about my birth-sign ability. Not that it's exactly a secret that the Lover-born can paralyse you (at the cost of any and all of your energy, but somehow that being a bad thing only really sinks in on your third day of bed-rest) but it's both something people tend to forget about and something that can be very handy in a tight spot.

And, of course, I try not to let on I'm Lover-born at all. You see, once people find out I'm Lover-born the lewd comments about dark elven promiscuity start, and then I have to tell them I'd rather kiss a dead kagouti (well, the Imperial equivalent) and although they did look very similar to one the kagouti smelled so much better I could never get them confused, and... well. It usually ends in tears, and sometimes in fireballs.

Whoever gives names to these things doesn't help, I should add - the paralysation ability is called the 'Lover's Kiss.' I ask you!

Of course, it was a bit difficult to pretend to be Lady-born after someone saw you in the aftermath. Even the fake birthdate I'd picked couldn't save me.

"Born under the Lover, I take it?" Ervesa asked. It was clearly meant to be rhetorical, but I nodded reluctantly anyway. "I thought I recognised the signs. One of my comrades in training was as well. She once used it on me in a practice duel."

I winced. "I take it you won, then."

"Actually, our instructor decided that we both lost. He wasn't very impressed. He said that before she woke up or I could move again we'd have both been killed by our surroundings."

Somehow, given what I'd experienced of the wildlife here so far, that really didn't surprise me.

"Anyway," Ervesa continued, "I killed the kagouti before the paralysis worse off, then its mate when it attacked as well." Wait, there had been a second one of those things out there? And it hadn't killed any of the people that I'd encountered earlier? Life really wasn't fair. "Nothing particularly unusual, really. I'm more curious as to how an outlander with no combat skills whatsoever ended up trying to fend off wild kagouti near Lake Amaya."

The words were cutting but the tone wasn't, and faced with the first sympathetic listener I'd encountered that whole cursed day I found myself blinking back tears. "All I wanted to do was pick _flowers._" My voice most emphatically did not sound like a wail, I told myself.

"Flowers?"

I nodded. "I'm a member of the Mages Guild in Balmora." I paused for a moment - it was the first time I'd said those words out loud. I liked the way it made me sound practically important, and decided not to add 'as of yesterday'. "One of the other guild members asked me to gather flowers near the lake for experimentation - alchemy, you know. And then..."

The whole story came pouring out, from the horrible tyrant old woman where I wouldn't have been in the slightest surprised to find out she was a giant insect Daedra in disguise, to the Bosmer and my taking temporary leave of my senses when agreeing to find his friend, to the kagouti stand-off in which I heroically gave everything I had to incapitate the kagouti only to have the person I was trying to save run away and leave me to certain death, the traitor.

Ervesa frowned. "Scholar or no scholar, anyone should be able to kill a kagouti if it's not going to be moving for a full minute. That was a very cowardly thing to do." She sounded coldly disapproving, and I suddenly remembered that my rescuer was actually a knight - well, vaguely knight-like being that possibly floated - and therefore probably put a lot of stock into the whole honour and chivalry and so on and so forth nonsense. Knights do that sort of thing. I'd always theorised that the steel in their helmets alchemically reacts with their hair to form an intelligence-reducing potion, but now that giant insect armour had entered the picture I would probably need to adjust that a little. Maybe the different material accounted for the songs and poetry?

I found this a fascinating train of thought and would have pursued it for a while, but I noticed Ervesa was still talking and resumed listening sheepishly.

"-better spells and weapons if you want to do any more exploring." Apparently I hadn't missed much, since by the words and scolding tone I guessed she was telling me off for wandering about totally defenseless and my brain had been doing more than enough of that already, thank you, random outsiders need not weigh in. Even if they had just saved my life.

Besides...

"To be honest, I think I've done all the exploring I can handle. I'm looking forward to getting back to Balmora and never leaving again." Dreamily, I thought about what awaited me in Balmora. An alchemy apparatus... a bed... food that was actually edible... a distinct lack of wildlife...

"Really? But you haven't picked your flowers yet."

That brought me back to earth quite forcefully. "Oh _no._" I thought for a moment while licking the last of the roast kagouti off my fingers. It really wasn't that bad once you got used to the texture. "You know, I think these flowers really don't want me to pick them. I mean, look at what's happened every time I tried. The next time they'll probably send Imperial guards after me or something similarly dreadful."

I was talking more to myself than to Ervesa, trying to convince myself that alchemical properties or no the flowers were best left alone for now, and only belatedly realised that perhaps I should make sure she shared my thoughts about Imperial guards before making disparaging remarks. Luckily, she didn't take offence but just nodded sagely. "The way your luck is going, I'd expect a whole nest of cliff racers next. Or possibly dreugh who have mysteriously learned to walk on land."

"See? It's a matter of self-preservation. Ajira will have to do without." I imagined Ajira's sad face - in particular, I imagined Ajira's 'best impression of a kicked kitten' sad face - and winced.

"I'm sure she'll understand. At any rate, you can hardly pick them now, it's completely dark and you still look exhausted. You can always try again another day. And in the meantime, I have a suggestion."

I raised an inquiring eyebrow. (I was quite proud of this feat. It had taken me ages of practice in front of a mirror to manage properly.)

"I've only got one bed-roll with me, and although I saw a farmhouse further along the path I don't know how hospitable the owner will be. However, I do know a spell that will teleport you to the closest Temple. It's not that difficult, even if you don't have much knowledge of Mysticism you should be able to manage it after a few tries," Ervesa said, talking over my protestations that my knowledge of Mysticism was _excellent,_ thank you very much. "That should get us to Balmora and let you get back to your Guild to rest. If you feel too tired to manage learning a new spell, I'll have to go take look at the farmhouse-"

"I'll do the spell," I said hastily. The idea of making it back to my bed in the Mages' Guild and waking up in the morning to Dulnea's spiced rolls and special tea was very appealing. And besides, even exhausted I was always willing to extend my magical repertoire - especially when it came to Mysticism, which had always sparked my interest.

"Wonderful!" Ervesa said. The enthusiasm in her voice made me suspect that she was also keen on the idea of a real bed in town. "The spell is called. 'Almsivi Intervention.' The way you form the magicka construct for it is..."

oOoOo

It wasn't a very complicated spell, which is why it was so embarrassing it took me such a long time to grasp it. By the time I actually felt sure enough of the structure to try casting it, the sun had sunk fully underneath the horizon, my cheeks were red and Ervesa was looking increasingly skeptical. It was humiliating - I _was_ good at Mysticism, honestly (it made up for being completely inept at every combat-related skill bar running away). I'd been praised more than once about the ease and efficiency with which I cast my Detection spells. It must be the exhaustion, I told myself; not only had I had a long day, but I knew from experience that potions or no potions, the only magic that could rid me of the last, bone-deep weariness from using the Lover's gift was a good night's sleep. In short, not the best of situations to be studying in.

Thankfully, it _really_ wasn't a very complicated spell. Apparently, every Temple in Morrowind had a... beacon, for lack of a better word, in the realm of Mysticism, and that did most of the work for you. The only part of the spell I had to do was throwing out a sort of mystic rope to connect to the nearest one, and even in my exhausted state I managed to figure that out eventually.

"So, are you sure you understand it?" Ervesa said for the third time. Really, there was being cautious and there was outright paranoia.

"Yes, I'm sure," I answered for the third time. I suspected it sounded three times as annoyed, as well. "Really, it's not that difficult a spell. What are you worried about happening?"

As always, my mouth was faster than my brain - the instant after I asked that, I realised I really didn't want to know the answer.

"Well, I've never reliably heard of anything going wrong myself but... there are stories."

"Stories," I said flatly. "These stories wouldn't entail, oh, accidentally teleporting yourself into solid rock, or vanishing into thin air and never being seen again, or appearing on the other side with your organs inside-out, or-"

"Well. Yes. But!" she hastened to add when she saw my expression, "it's always fourth hand or more. A friend will have heard it from a drunk he met at a tavern once whose second cousin's wife's aunt twice removed lost a friend this way. As I said, I've never reliably heard of anything going wrong myself, nor have I ever seen someone arrive injured due to a teleportation spell. And I've lived near or at Temples for years."

I had another worry. "And, er, the gods don't punish you if you cast this despite not worshipping them?"

Ervesa shook her head. "I know a lot of people use it to get around quickly, no matter what they believe. At the Temple in Vivec, there are always all sorts of people popping in from Ebonheart - the centre of Imperial government on Vvardenfell, there aren't too many faithful there," she explained at my confused look. "And since you say you have some skill at Mysticism, it really shouldn't be a problem."

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

Now, anyone listening would probably have assumed I'd been convinced this was harmless - by her relieved smile, Ervesa certainly did. In fact, I still had my doubts... but as I'd realised earlier that day contemplating silt striders, if a method of travel was convenient I was perfectly willing to take advantage of it even if it might eat you, rearrange your insides, transport you into the middle of a mountain or just make you vanish forever.

I would like to point out at this stage that I'm an alchemist. I spend a great deal of my time tasting ingredients that might kill me, making potions that might kill me and using equipment that might explode and, you guessed it, kill me. I regularly poison myself and consider this completely normal and unavoidable. Recklessness comes with the territory.

I closed my eyes and envisioned the way I wanted the magicka to form in my mind. Hold the construct, don't think about what would happen to you if you screwed this up and switched your heart and your stomach around, channel it and cast it out...

The power swirled up around me, through me, and latched onto _something-_

For a brief moment I felt as if either the world or I had vanished except that I couldn't tell which one. Then the energy was gone and I was staggering, trying to adjust to standing on cobblestones when just a moment earlier I'd been standing on grass.

My eyes popped open. I was facing a door leading into a round, domed building made out of the same type of stone the other buildings in Balmora used. This must be the Temple.

"It worked!" I exclaimed.

I jumped in surprise as Ervesa suddenly popped into existence next to me. She seemed hardly fazed at all by the transition. "See, I told you it wasn't- um."

"What?" I asked, grinning broadly. The rush of successfully casting a new spell - a teleportation spell at that - hadn't worn off yet. Nothing could bring my spirits down now!

"Oops."

"What do you mean, _oops?_" Maybe 'nothing' was a bit too optimistic.

Ervesa had turned around and was staring behind me. I turned to see what she was looking at.

We were apparently in some sort of walled forecourt, with an open archway just behind us. Beyond, you could see the city lit with lanterns and torches, the light glimmering off the water of the river to my left. I could just make out trees and grass on its other bank.

I had the nagging feeling that there was something wrong with this sight, but I couldn't quite pin it down...

Wait a minute.

"The river in Balmora," I said slowly, "flows through the middle of the town, with buildings on both sides. Why are all the houses on one bank?"

"I'm really sorry about this." Even in the faint light, I could tell her cheeks had darkened. "We must have been further to the east than I thought."

"Further to the-" Pieces were falling into place in my mind. "You said that spell takes you to the _nearest_ Temple."

Ervesa nodded sheepishly, and said, "We're in Suran." I felt all hope of waking up in the morning to Dulnea's rolls and tea die.

"Is there a Mages Guild here?" As a guild member I should at least be able to sleep there- but Ervesa was shaking her head.

"However," she continued before I could properly express my anger, "I will find us somewhere to stay for tonight and then tomorrow morning you can take the silt strider back to Balmora. I'll pay for the room and the fare, since this whole situation is, um, my fault." Ervesa looked at me as though she expected me to argue that. When I just stared at her silently, her blush deepened. "I'll try the Temple, they have beds and since I'm a member it oughtn't be a problem. Otherwise, there's a tradehouse in town."

"At this point anything is fine with me, provided I get to sleep _somewhere,_" I said, fighting a yawn as Ervesa opened the door to the temple. I hadn't fully recovered from using That and exhaustion was settling in.

Exhaustion or no, after I entered I stared in surprise at the inside of the temple. Where was the altar? The stained-glass windows with emblems of the Nine, or at least the Aedra worshipped in that particular Temple? What kind of temple was this, anyway?

Then my mind decided to catch up to my circumstances and helpfully point out that being as this was a native Dunmer temple, and native Dunmer worshipped some sort of living gods, it would be rather odd to see the Nine represented. Although I still couldn't quite imagine how the actual worshipping would work without an altar...

See, this is what comes of being brought up in the Cult - narrow-mindedness.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and tried to bury all my prejudices and ideas of what a proper temple should look like, then opened them again.

Although it was fully dark outside, the temple was lit with many blue candles. In the flickering light, I could see it had a low, domed ceiling and was decorated with carpets and tapestries. The carpets were simple patterns, whereas the tapestries showed rich, detailed scenes - the one closest to me depicted what looked like some sort of grand battle, centred on three figures clustered around one lying on the ground - but all were muted and earthen in colour, a far cry from the extravagant and eye-catching decorations I was used to. I could see a sort of carved mural in the corner, lit by yet more blue candles; apart from that the temple was bare stone.

In the centre of the room, surrounded by candles and kneeling-cushions, was a large, shallow pit. A woman wearing simple robes who I guessed was the priest was standing next to it, engaged in intense discussion with Ervesa. Given that from the few words that drifted my way they seemed to be talking about statuary of some sort and interior decoration has never exactly been an interest of mine, I found myself more interested in the pit. It was filled with what looked like ashes although I could see... I blinked. Were those _bones_ in there? And wasn't that a skull? ...a rather mer-like skull, at that.

I swallowed hard as I realised I had no idea about Dunmer funeral customs whatsoever. True, so far they were preferable to the Bosmer ones (understatement!), but putting remains on display seemed rather... distasteful.

Of course, maybe I had it all wrong and this was actually the site for animal sacrifices. When I was a child the priests had told me the more primitive religions, especially those that did not worship any aspect of the Nine, often made such things a centre of their-

Bury your prejudices, Adryn.

And after all-

Some words from the priest caught my attention. In particular, the words "so you can't stay tonight."

Strangely enough, I found myself suddenly disinterested in the differences between Dunmer religion and worship of the Nine.

"I'm very sorry," the priest was saying. "I would at least offer to let you sleep on the floor, but-"

"I understand completely," Ervesa said. Her face was grim. "I apologise; I would help you now but it has been a long day and I still have duties to attend to." From her side-long glance, I gathered that 'duties' was me. "If you lock up tonight, I can help you cleanse it tomorrow."

Tension went out of the priest's body so quickly she actually stumbled. "_Thank_ you. I was going to contact the main Temple in Vivec for help, but I really didn't want to leave it that long. I'll stay with a friend tonight, if you..."

"We'll find something." Ervesa heaved a sigh. "I'll meet you here at first light."

And then I was following her back outside.

"What was that all about?" I asked. I'd been too distracted by the temple to catch the pertinent parts of the conversation, but judging by Ervesa's and the priest's attitude something was very wrong - and what was this 'cleansing' business, anyway? It sounded as if something potentially dangerous was going on, and when it comes to things like that I like to know exactly what they are so I can stay as far away as possible.

Of course, it might just be some sort of heathen superstitio-

I silently cursed all priests of Kynareth. Perhaps 'all' was a bit much, perhaps I should restrict myself to the ones who look at little orphan children and see them as empty vessels to be filled with religious propaganda, but I was tired and not inclined to be generous.

"Hmm? Oh," Ervesa looked as if she'd just realised I'd been with her the whole time. "I'm really sorry, it's Temple business. I shouldn't have let you listen to as much as you did." Well, luckily for her, I'd been too distracted by cultural wall-hanging practises and theology to eavesdrop on the apparently confidential and important conversation. I fought the urge to slap my forehead in frustration. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't repeat what you heard to anyone." Well, that wouldn't be hard, given that the only thing I could repeat was something about sculpture, of all things.

I was tempted to pretend I _was_ about to run around telling everyone about this mysterious thing the Temple apparently wanted kept quiet just to annoy Ervesa, but she looked genuinely apologetic and at the moment I had bigger worries. "Sure," I said, shrugging, "I didn't hear much anyway. Only," I had bigger worries such as... "where are we going to sleep tonight, then?"

Ervesa beamed at me when I told her I'd keep quiet. She was surprisingly pretty when she smiled, I noticed. "Oh, there's a tradehouse with beds available in town. I was planning to stay at the Temple because it'd be free, but it's a good place. I've stayed there before, during pilgrimage season."

I heaved a sigh of relief that we apparently weren't going to end up sleeping on the street and followed Ervesa into Suran.

oOoOo

"What do you mean, you're full?"

"Exactly what I said, girl," the proprietress of the tradehouse grinned at me. Ordinarily, I'd be more curious about the intricate tattoo decorating her forehead - I'm only used to Nords deciding to get themselves stabbed with inked needles for fun, but I dimly remembered hearing that some Dunmer have tribal markings of some sort - but at the moment my attention was firmly caught by two things. First, that this was yet another person who thought "girl" was a suitable thing to call someone (what ever happened to basic politeness, I ask you) and second, that it looked as if we were going to be sleeping outside after all.

None of this made me any more inclined to be polite, so it was probably a good thing for our chances of not starting a brawl, getting into a fight with the owner or otherwise getting arrested that Ervesa intervened at that point. (Although then again, jails have beds. Maybe if it was just a _little_ brawl?)

"I'm sorry," she said. "We're just tired and- full, really? I didn't think you'd be very busy this time of year."

The Dunmer shrugged. "Wouldn't usually be, but there are rumours about some sort of mad Orc berserker up in the hills that's made a lot of travellers stop here until they know it's safe to continue. I've got an entire trading group- all the beds are full, in fact, all the _floors_ are full. Yesterday I actually had people sleeping in the hallway- I'm sorry, but there's just no way."

"Orc berserker? I should probably look into that tomorrow..." Ervesa's voice, which had taken on a speculative tone, trailed off and her shoulders slumped. "But do you know anywhere else where we might stay?"

"Well..." the owner trailed off. "Mine's the only inn in Suran, but there's one other place you could try. Although I don't think you'll like it."

oOoOo

"You are _joking._"

"Um."

Ervesa shuffled her feet. My gaze drifted from her boots (also insectoid - seriously, I do not understand local fashion choices, insect is never 'in') to the door of the place we'd been told we might be able to stay for the night.

Now, I have to admit I was a stranger to this country, totally unfamiliar with their customs and norms to do with everything ranging from food to fashion to exterior decorating. But honestly?

Red lights mean only one thing.

And any attempt at convincing me that actually, in Morrowind those red lanterns meant free housing for people named 'Adryn' or anything like that was doomed to failure by the sign that hung over the front door. The sign saying 'Desele's House of Earthly Delights.'

Nobody is that enthusiastic about mattresses.

"You can't possibly be serious," I tried again.

"Er. Well." Ervesa was studying her feet. Maybe she was reconsidering her choice in footwear - hope springs eternal - but I suspected she was just trying to avoid looking me in the eye. "They'll have free beds?"

"Free? Try _pre-occupied,_" I snapped.

"Look, I don't like this any more than you do," Ervesa said, lifting her eyes to look at me for the first time since I'd spotted the lights. "But we need somewhere to sleep, and unless we want to hike out of town and sleep on the bare ground... in the rain..." she lifted her head in the direction of the clouds gathering overhead. "We can just try to get rooms for the night without any... extras."

I looked at the clouds. Looked at the entrance. Pondered whether sleeping outside in freezing rain was really worse than this, then decided sadly that yes, my chances of dying out here were probably higher than dying in there (even if the death would be decidedly more dignified) and gave a grim nod. "All right. Lead on. But I'm not happy about this."

oOoOo

I tried very hard not to look around the inside of the brothel, tried to ignore the stares of the patrons and the curious looks of the women wearing...

Weren't they cold?

_Ignore it, Adryn!_ I firmly fixed my attention on a picture hanging on the opposite wall. It was a nice picture! With pretty colours! Showing...

...I had no idea it was possible to fit a grape in there.

Thwarted in my attempts to pretend we were somewhere (anywhere) other than where we were, I looked over to where Ervesa was trying to explain the situation to the owner.

"...pretty unusual, is all I'm saying. Lost travellers are one thing, but Armigers generally stay at the temple unless they're looking for companionship. Are you sure you only want-" the owner was saying. She was a Breton, still quite good-looking but with faint wrinkles at the corner of her eyes showing that she wasn't as young as her... employees. Her dark brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders and down to her...

Seriously, wasn't she cold?

I stared at Ervesa's hair, which seemed to be the only safe thing in the room to look at. It was very nice hair - black, twisted together at the back near the top of her head and then plaited so that it hung free in two thin braids to about the middle of her back. Honestly, it looked like a hairstyle that should take hours, a professional and possibly alteration magic to obtain, but I couldn't imagine Ervesa going to that much effort. She was a warrior... bard... thing after all, and at least the first half of that was something that didn't usually go hand-in-hand with creative fashion choices.

Well, unless we count wearing the same clothes for two weeks, rips, patches, bloodstains, dented rusty armour, perfume in the "dead people" flavour or - here - pretending to be a giant insect as fashion choices. Which I for one don't.

Indeed, the only concession to her appearance Ervesa seemed to have made were two earrings of some sparkling amber gemstone which she must have slipped on at some point after we got into town because I couldn't remember seeing them earlier. They were pretty, but small and easy to overlook, swinging from the tips of her ears as she turned around to face me-

Wait a moment.

"-Adryn?"

I started guiltily and pretended I had not just spent some time staring at Ervesa's ears. "Yes?"

There was a clinking sound as she shook a set of keys in front of my face.

"We've got a room."

oOoOo

I stared at the bed.

It was definitely a bed. Four posters, fluffy pillows, a pile of blankets high enough I started to suspect the owner had a hoarding problem, or maybe was preparing for a sudden glacier attack. (Sneaky things, glaciers are, you never know when they'll pop up.) Its aura of general bedness filled the whole room.

Moreover, its _singularity_ filled the whole room, because there was definitely, emphatically only one of it. It was a bed on its own, a bed asserting its independence. It screamed, insofar as furniture can scream, "Look upon me, I am the greatest, softest, most comfortable, most bed-like bed that ever existed, and I tolerate no rivals!"

"I'll take the floor," Ervesa said.

I remembered with a guilty start that this person had saved my life only a few hours ago, and I probably ought to be more grateful. "No, no, I'll take the floor. You've had a long day. Fighting tusky things. Saving poor innocent travellers from them. That sort of thing."

Ervesa shook her head. "Taking the bed would be profoundly unchivalrous. Besides, you still need to recover from your shock. You take it."

Shock?

Oh, right, almost getting gored by the aforementioned tusky thing. Funny how I'd almost managed to forget that in light of new, brothel-related trauma.

"No, no, I..." My voice trailed off as something dreadful occurred to me. "Wait a moment."

Ervesa tilted her head inquisitively.

"This is- this is- I have read these books, all right, I know how this goes. Any moment now one of us will say, well we could just share, the bed is big enough, and then later- in fact, this whole set-up is..." I closed my eyes in the futile hope that it would somehow diminish the horror of the upcoming sentence. "_I am feeling more like the heroine of a romance novel every minute._"

There was a noise that could, possibly, have been a suppressed giggle.

I cracked one eye open and looked at Ervesa with suspicion.

Her face was perfectly impassive, but her eyes were dancing in a highly questionable manner. "I have to say... and I do take your point about this being a very, ah, stereotypical situation... you'd make an unlikely romance novel heroine." While I was trying to work out whether I ought to be insulted, she continued, "So, what's your suggestion then?"

"Well." I presented my solution. "We could both take the floor."

Ervesa gave me a thoroughly unimpressed look. I was surprised; usually, the sorts of looks my suggestions are met with run along the lines of "please repeat that, because I think a butterfly flapping its wings on the other side of the world caused passing turbulence which changed the sound of the words before they reached my ear - this being more likely than you actually saying what I just heard" or "Since I cannot convince myself some auditory illusion caused this I am led to the inescapable conclusion that you were raised by maladjusted wolves, possibly in the Shivering Isles". (Believe me, I am heartily familiar with both of these looks as well as their variations.)

In short, unimpressed was a much milder reaction than I was expecting. Still, I felt obliged to defend my suggestion. "Besides, we don't know- we don't want to know where that bed has been."

oOoOo

In the end, it was surprisingly comfortable. The Bed (it deserved the capital letters) was furnished with enough fluffy pillows to occupy an entire orphanage of children in a fight for hours, as well as more blankets that would have been necessary in Solitude during Morning Star. I had to wonder why they went to so much effort, given that what was meant to take place on the Bed was - and I am admittedly no expert - not something that particularly involved those things.

I just hoped they washed them afterwards, or else...

...you know, Adryn, let's not continue down that line of thought.

At any rate, there were enough accessories of various sorts to make each of us a comfortable nest, and in the dim candlelight the whole thing seemed almost like an adventure. Brave explorer Adryn - now complete with sidekick - venturing into the hidden depths of prostitution...

"Well, good night, I guess," Ervesa interrupted my daydreams.

"Good night and... I'm sorry for complaining so much about this," I said, pricked by my guilty conscience. "You did save my life earlier, after all. I don't mean to be ungrateful."

What? Even I can be polite sometimes!

"Don't worry about it. Saving people is part of the job description, and you'd done most of the work in paralysing the kagouti. Dragging people miles out of their way and forcing them to stay in..." she paused, "profoundly unsuitable, shall we say, circumstances isn't."

"Still. Sorry." I relaxed back into the purloined blankets, trying to ignore the stripped Bed looming above me. It was soft and warm and I was very tired...

It was at that point the noise started.

I won't describe it in detail, as I wish I didn't _remember_ it in detail. Suffice it to say that it was completely impossible to ignore and left no doubts whatsoever about what sort of establishment this was.

I looked at Ervesa.

She looked at me.

"I'll see if Helviane has any playing cards," she said.

oOoOo

It said something about the way things were going that I was entirely unsurprised when the cards Ervesa came back with some minutes later had very... creative illustrations. By which I mean that I had certainly never seen the figures depicted in quite that way before; I didn't think some of those positions were even anatomically possible.

But I did my best to ignore that (something I was sadly getting a lot of practice in) and instead studied the cards themselves. They weren't quite the ones I was used to even apart from the... interesting... drawings. The suits were slightly different; "cups" seemed to have become "shields" in Morrowind (not that I could quite blame them given the wildlife), I didn't see any Emperors, Knights or Legionnaires but spotted a King and Queen of swords, and finally the trumps looked different as well. At least, I certainly didn't recall a Pilgrim in the decks I was used to, but then again I really wasn't inclined to study the cards too closely so I might be misreading them.

"Hmmm." Ervesa also seemed to be trying to ignore the illustrations. "Pity we don't have a third, we could have a round of sedrathi."

"We could always invite one of our neighbours over for a round, since they seem so... active," I responded. Ervesa choked. "I don't suppose you know any good two-player card games?" Most of the ones I knew were meant for groups. Besides, something I'd learned in my travels was that games can be completely different between different provinces, and it would probably behoove me to pick up the local ones (of which I assumed 'sedrathi' was one) sooner rather than later.

"I know a few, although I wouldn't necessarily call them good. But..." she shrugged. "I'm sure we'll make do somehow."

"Mmm." I nodded.

Honestly, even learning a new game as I was, I wasn't expecting the play to be all that interesting, or Ervesa to be much competition. I'd spent years playing cards with some of the greatest rogues in Skyrim, after all, and Ervesa was a knight (ish) which meant honesty, integrity and a natural disadvantage.

As a result, I was rather surprised when our game quickly turned into a friendly competition as to who could cheat most outrageously.

"I have the king of rings and the aces of staves, shields and swords," I said, laying down my hand triumphantly. _Beat that._

"Hmm. Very good, very good indeed." Ervesa looked at her hand. "I have the ace of rings, ace of shields, and... two aces of staves."

"Quite miraculous," I said drily. "I don't think the rules work for this event, given that there's only meant to be one of each card in the game."

"Well." Her voice was mild. "It would help if you didn't use illusions."

I tried to jerk my hand away but she was faster. "Sheogorath take it," I muttered as the dispelling magicka washed over me - in particular, as it washed over the cards I was holding and shifted the aces of staves and shields into a seven and nine of swords respectively. It wasn't something you could use in a serious game where everyone was on the look-out for that sort of magic, but I'd managed to fool quite a few people who weren't expecting it with that little trick all the same.

"I think that means I win." Ervesa sounded satisfied.

"Wait just a moment. I know I saw you slip the aces of shields and staves up your sleeve when you dealt, but where did the other two come from?"

"Well, you're one to talk given that that was how you got the ace of swords," she'd spotted that? I thought for sure I'd got away with it, "and- wait!-"

This time I was faster and managed to grab the offending cards out of her hand. "Wait a moment, these aren't those cards at all! This is Masser and that's... I'm not actually sure, but definitely a trump card." I raised an eyebrow. "How exactly were you planning on sneaking those past me?"

"Well." Ervesa was coolly unrepentant. She'd have made an excellent thief with that attitude towards her crimes. "I thought that since those two superficially resemble the cards in question and if you looked closer you'd be distracted by the illustrations, seeing as they are among the ones where the artist took the most... creative license... don't look!"

Alas, my eyes were a little faster than either my ears or my brain in this case, something I had never regretted quite so much as in that moment.

"I- what- how-" I'd never been a drinker but suddenly, faced with the prospect of having _that_ burned into my memory, strong liquor gained an entirely new appeal. "How is that even anatomically possible and why in the name of the Nine would anyone do it for fun?"

"As far as the first goes, I'm quite certain it's not. Years of combat training tell me that his legs would have broken long ago at that angle, and I don't think you could do that with a slaughterfish anyway. As for the second..." Ervesa shrugged philosophically. "There is a story of Saint Delyn that goes like this: once, when he was young, he came across two philosophers arguing next to a mudcrab colony. When he asked them what they were doing, one of them said: 'I am trying to explain to my imbecilic colleague that the movement of the mudcrabs symbolically expresses the movement of Nirn and the alignment of the stars!' The other retorted: 'No, you fool, the mudcrabs are demonstrating the creation of the world and the death of Lorkhan! See, if you take the one to the right there to be-'

"Saint Delyn shrugged and continued on his way. A few weeks later, he passed by the spot again. Both scholars had starved, having been so involved in their argument they forgot to eat, and the mudcrabs were making a meal of them. 'Sometimes,' thought Saint Delyn, 'it is best to let mudcrabs be mudcrabs.' In other words," Ervesa said, dropping out of her story-telling cadence, "it is best not to try too hard to understand some things, because doing so can only lead to madness, obsession, and having your corpse eaten by mudcrabs."

"That seems a little complicated." And a bit more grotesque than I was used to parables being, for that matter. "I prefer to say that everyone else has been brainwashed, or possibly possessed by Sheogorath, in order to find such an unhygienic, ridiculous activity appealing. Even if you take out the fruit. I mean, this entire place," I gestured around me. "An _entire industry_ devoted to, to sticking body parts into other people's orifices or vice versa. I just don't understand how so many people would decide it's so important without Daedra and their sense of humour being involved somewhere."

I peered at Ervesa, curious about how she would react to this. Although I consider this very sound and logical reasoning, it gets me more "raised by maladjusted wolves" looks and even otherwise rare "I think you ought to be marooned on a deserted island on the off-chance that this is contagious" looks than anything else - something which I think goes to show how sadly widespread Daedric brainwashing is these days. Even Ingerte a-

Well, Ervesa had been surprisingly tolerant so far, so I wondered how the statement that usually made even otherwise tolerant people wonder out loud exactly how I'd survived to my current age without accidentally inciting someone to murder would work on her.

She was quiet for a long moment, staring into the candleflame. "Honestly, I don't understand it either. As I said: mudcrabs. You may not understand why they're doing what they're doing but it's best just to leave them to it. I do have to say that you're the first person I've ever met who shares that opinion." She met my eyes with a wry grin. "All of my fellow trainees thought I was crazy. It's good to know I'm not the only one."

"Brainwashing," I said sagely, but I felt my cheeks stretch into a smile in spite of myself. "Us paltry few who haven't fallen victim to it have to stick together."

We shared a moment of connection, a moment of being the only two people with sense in a world that considered the greatest possible pleasure to involve bodily fluids. It was broken by loud... noises coming from the next room, which goes to show that whichever Daedric Prince is at fault for this has a fine-tuned sense of irony.

I looked back down at the cards. "So... who won?"

Ervesa shrugged. "I think we can call it a tie."

"Fair enough." I wasn't going to argue. "Who taught you how to cheat, anyway? I mean, you're good. I barely noticed you slipping those aces up your sleeve."

"Not good enough, or else you wouldn't have." Ervesa grinned wryly. "As for who taught me - Tidros Indaram, one of my training masters at Molag Mar."

I blinked. This made two floating religious knight-bards that cheated at cards. "Look, I don't know much about your order, but... isn't that a bit unusual? After all," I continued when Ervesa just looked confused, "you were talking earlier about emulating your god..."

"Exactly," Ervesa interrupted, and it was my turn to look confused. "That's why we do it."

Wait.

Wait, I couldn't possibly have heard that correctly.

"Your god cheats at cards?"

"Well, I suppose-"

_"Your god cheats at cards?"_

I tried to imagine any of the gods I'd grown up hearing about, the Nine or the Nordic pantheon, cheating at cards. This resulted in the mental image of Alduin the great dragon who destroyed the world before time, Kynareth the Goddess of Air, and Talos who was Tiber Septim who conquered all of Tamriel and ascended to godhood... sitting around a table in a tavern playing cards, with Alduin trying to hide an ace between his scales because he didn't have any sleeves (being a giant, world-eating dragon), Kynareth using her powers over wind to blow the cards into the order she wanted when dealing, and Talos simply telling the others that his seven of staves was actually an ace and daring them to object. This in turn resulted in me pondering whether I might have accidentally had any skooma at any point that day without realising, because I had no idea how to explain what was going through my head without drugs coming into the picture somewhere.

"Well, it's a little more complicated than that," Ervesa said. "Do you want to hear the story?"

"Wild kagouti couldn't keep me from finding out the story behind this," I responded.

"All right then. Once, Vivec encountered a group of Dwemer near Falasmaryon..."

What followed was a story involving Vivec, an annoying braggart of a Dwemer who claimed his machine could predict anything that would ever happen, and Vivec talking him into a card game with high stakes. "The other Dwemer told him to be careful, for they knew Vivec was filled with trickery and bore them no love," Ervesa said, showing more pride at the description of her god as 'filled with trickery' than I would have expected. If you closed your eyes and ignored the accent, you could almost imagine she was a Nord talking about Shor. "But Vivec said, 'why, do you not trust your machine? If it truly does what you say, you would be able to tell how the cards will fall even now, and there is no risk,' and he agreed to the game.

"Then as they were playing, Vivec changed the cards so they fell to his favour. The Dwemer realised this and became furious. Yet, Vivec said, if the machine were truly able to predict anything, he would have known this would happen. So the fact that Vivec was winning demonstrated his lie."

"And then what happened?" I asked when she paused.

"The other Dwemer, being a folk that did not prize loyalty, agreed with Vivec's assessment. Thus Vivec's opponent was cast out for his failure and his machine melted down as useless, and thus the land around Falasmaryon came to belong to the Dunmer. Some people say one can still hear the spirit of the bested Dwemer there on dark nights, railing against Vivec's cunning, but," Ervesa shrugged, "Falasmaryon lies deep in the Ashlands and the wind howling through the _foyada_ can lead even the bravest of mer to imagine things."

"That was a good story," I said once it was clear Ervesa had finished. "Do you know any more?" It was a good distraction from our environment - and over the course of the day I'd found myself honestly curious. Ervesa had made a generally good impression on me so far, making me wonder about the god that she was so dedicated to.

"What, weren't you listening to me earlier?" She frowned at me until I wondered whether I ought to be apologising for forgetting something (but what?), then her face broke into a grin. "One of the things we Armigers are dedicated to is poetry and prose. In other words," she winked, "I know very many such stories! I can think of several which I think you might like. But first..."

"First?"

"How much do you know about the Tribunal Temple?" Ervesa asked.

"Very little," I admitted. Then, struck by the intensity of her gaze, I added, "look, if this is some attempt at conversion..."

"No, no! Well..." Ervesa looked a little sheepish, "not really? It just seems to me as if you might be interested in learning more about us. We're not a very missionary sort of people!" she added hastily. "Not like the Cult. But a lot of outlanders, you know, they come to Morrowind and," she spread her hands, "they know nothing about us. Just rumours about savage rituals and heathen worship and," a dark look spread on her face and she almost spat the next word, "_necromancy,_ of all the dreadful blasphemies. And they never bother to learn more. I hear outlanders who've lived in Morrowind decades repeating the same old lies about our beliefs and customs."

"So..." I asked warily, "you're just encouraging me to learn about your religion?" True, I'd been contemplating this myself, but I find it pays to be careful appearing too religiously interested when it comes to clergy and other zealots. You may think you're just passing the time while taking advantage of the healing services but then they get their claws in you and suddenly you find yourself swearing eternal loyalty to Mehrunes Dagon via human sacrifice - I've heard the stories, you know! A measure of reluctance and skepticism is essential when it comes to these things.

She nodded. "Exactly. If you decide to join the Temple afterwards, excellent, but even if you don't at least you'll know what we're about. And I don't mean you should go straight on a pilgrimage or anything. A good friend of mine is at the Balmora Temple - Llarara Omayn, is her name - and she sells books and tracts. I know there's one common one that's aimed at outsiders like you but I don't recall the name... other than that, Saryoni's Sermons is a very popular collection, Cantatas of Vivec is a favourite of mine, Doors of the Spirit is one I recommend to anyone who's heard those slanderous rumours that we engage in necromancy..."

My shoulders relaxed. Books, I could deal with books. I could deal with books very well indeed, considering that I'd been contemplating doing bedtime reading about kagouti mating habits earlier and as far as I was concerned, everything you needed to know about those could be summed up in two words: Stay. _Away._ "All right-" I paused to yawn, "I'll keep those in mind."

Ervesa smiled at me. My cheeks grew hot, which was definitely, absolutely, emphatically just because of the room being quite warm by now. "Wonderful! Now, I think I've remembered a story you'll enjoy."

"Go on," I said.

As she started talking, I let myself fall backwards into my mountain of pillows. The noise from next door was still audible, but my limbs felt like lead and I had to fight to keep my eyes open. Small wonder; I had used _that_ today after all, and one rejuvenating potion was definitely not enough to get rid of the effects.

The last thing I remembered was Ervesa's face lit by flickering candlelight and her voice rising and falling rhythmically, lulling me to sleep.


	5. Returning to Balmora, second attempt

**Notes: **I'm really sorry for taking so long to produce the next chapter; I got blocked on the last scene and had to cut it entirely in the end. I'm still not entirely happy with how this chapter ends, but I thought I'd better get it up before another two years passed. The next chapter is pretty much done and should be out in a week or two, but I'm afraid it might be another long wait after that.

Of note: I've changed the currency system a little (one septim is now one hundred drakes); I got so used to it from other fanfics that rereading my own actually confused me. I've edited the past chapters to reflect this and it should be clear from context.

**Warnings: **None.

oOoOo

This time, when I woke from my nightmare (_skin writhing as though there are a thousand worms just beneath it, the creaking as the bones are stretched to their utmost limit-_) I didn't bolt upright. Instead, I just scowled at the ceiling - it was the third Oblivion-damned night in a row, if these were really location-induced somehow I'd end up trying to swim to the mainland before the week was out - then rolled over and waited for sleep to come again. The blankets were warm, by the dim twilight outside it was very, very early morning, the sounds of... activity... from next door had abated, I could hear even breathing from Ervesa's side of the room and I was so very tired...

_There is fire everywhere. To the right a city is burning, to the left a forest is alight, ahead two armies are battling, their fireballs almost invisible against the glare of the setting sun, behind -_

_Don't look back. In the name of every single god ever worshipped, don't look back._

_Someone's larger hand is clutching my small one, meant to be protective but holding me fast. "Come on!" I shout, pulling at it. The sound almost goes under in the screaming and roar of flames and- other noises. "It's not safe here! We have to keep moving!"_

_Now the scenery has shifted - the sun at my left, to my right the sea and a battle of two armadas. And-_

_The ground begins to tremble._

It_ is coming._

_"We have to run _now_!" My companion still isn't moving. Despite myself, I turn back to look at her._

_The stench hits me first - rot mixed with burning flesh, so strong it makes me gag. Maggots crawl over her forehead, the skin of her cheeks already peeling off to expose decaying muscle. There is a crunching noise as the bare bones I am holding snap, the tendons holding the skeletal hand together ripping under the pressure of my fingers. They say corpses stare but hers does not; her eyes are two pits of charcoal, burned clear out of her face, and-_

_Behind her-_

It seemed that my old nightmares weren't just going to lie down and take this intrusion into their territory quietly, that they were in fact launching a counter-campaign. I lay in bed and tried to aim the thought _if you don't stop this I am going to bash my head in with a rock just so I can_ sleep at my subconscious.

Perhaps it worked, perhaps my various nightmares had just exhausted themselves with infighting - this time, when I fell back asleep it was dreamless. When I woke next, it was daylight outside, there was rain spattering the window and Ervesa was gone.

I yawned, sat up and stretched. My back was sore - all the fluffy blankets in the world don't quite make up for lacking a mattress - but it wasn't too bad and I'd certainly slept in worse circumstances.

I'd had to sleep in my clothes as I hadn't taken my new nightclothes with me, but smoothing them down got out the worst of the wrinkles and I could change when I got to the Mages' Guild. (If I ever got to the Mages' Guild. After yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised if some god was trying to keep me away from the place. If there was an attack of massed kagouti or bandits or Daedra on the path back, I would be totally unsurprised - I vowed to myself to have my Firebite spell ready just in case.) Reflexively, I looked around for my cloak, then had to remind myself that I didn't actually own one at the moment and that this land had a very balmy climate. What can I say, old habits die hard.

The main room looked entirely different when I got downstairs. Gone were the patrons, the dancers, the lurid lighting. The only person in the place was the owner - Helviane, Ervesa had called her - who was wiping down the counter with a rag. I noted with relief that she was a bit... more warmly dressed, shall we say, than she'd been the day before.

"Up, are you?" she asked me, then continued without waiting for an answer (although really, what was she expecting me to say, "no"?). "Your Buoyant Armiger friend left at first light. Paid for the room and left you this." She pushed a ten-drake coin my way. "Said it was for the strider back to Balmora, and that she was sorry for just leaving but that she had urgent business and didn't want to wake you." By her smirk, I knew exactly how Helviane had taken 'didn't want to wake you', and wished silently that Ervesa had spent a little more thought on her word choice. "I'm Helviane Desele, by the way, didn't catch your name yesterday. And don't look like that, I don't bite." She paused and then winked. "Unless you're paying me, that is."

"Um." It felt as if my tongue had knotted itself overnight. "Adryn. And not biting me is perfectly fine, really, no need to change that, I, I like being unbitten-" I flushed deep purple as Helviane laughed.

"Ah, kids," she said, shaking her head. "Well, Adryn, you're in luck - Folsi should be back from her morning trip to Vivec in a bit, and the next destination is Balmora. If you'd missed that, you'd have had to wait until the afternoon."

"In that case, I'd better get going," I said quickly. At the moment, I really just wanted to get back to Balmora as quickly as possible and forget most of the last day had ever happened. "Wouldn't want to miss it. Er-" some long-forgotten part of my mind that had once learned this strange thing called _manners_ prodded me, "thank you for letting us stay last night."

Helviane shrugged. "Well, you looked miserable enough I couldn't in good conscience send you back onto the streets. Although I do hope those merchants get over whatever terrifying shadows and stories are keeping them in town this time. Good business it may be for me, but bad for trade. Besides, they're getting antsy. Ashumanu's been talking about having to break up fistfights, and I've had to ban one from the premises already for trying to take out his frustrations on one of my girls."

"Er-"

Helviane continued without even looking at me - not that I minded that part so much, given the way she was scowling at the table as if it had insulted her, ah, professional assets. (Well, for all I knew it had - after the Bed I wouldn't be too surprised at anything the furniture here got up to.) "In the meantime, rumour has it there's a murderer loose in Vivec but is anyone afraid of travelling there? Hardly! And now I have those damn Fighter thugs on my back again. 'Debt money' - what debt do they think I owe them, pray tell? Protection rackets, I tell you - I thought the whole point of an Imperial guild was supposed to be that it _wasn't_ a crime syndicate-"

It sounded as if the woman had forgotten that I had any existence bar being a listening ear - in particular, that I was trying to make the strider. It also sounded as if now that she'd got going she wasn't going to be stopping for a while. So I just waved at her and made my way to the door.

When I reached it, I stared outside in resignation. Up until today the weather had been good enough - cloudy, true, but dry and warm enough to be comfortable - but from the amount and type of vegetation and the swamps near the coast I'd deduced that this must be a relatively wet climate. As a result, the pouring rain didn't come as much of a surprise.

I still didn't want to go out in it, though.

Then again, I reminded myself, I was currently _standing in a brothel._ In comparison, a little water doesn't seem nearly as bad anymore. Refreshing. One might even say cleansing. And maybe, in a sense, lucky, because with the weather the way it was there would be fewer people around to see me leaving said brothel who might get the wrong impression.

I dashed out into the rain.

oOoOo

Some perfect, amazing, wonderful person who I was prepared to compose love letters to had come up with the idea of extending an oiled awning on one side of the silt strider platform to allow waiting passengers to wait dry. I ducked under it, shaking drops of water from my hair. The platform hadn't been far away from Desele's and shouldn't have taken much time to reach... unless, that is, the person trying to reach it was a total stranger to the city with the approximate sense of direction of a drugged chicken. Let's just say that I was quite damp by the time I found the place.

"Oh, hello there! Going to Balmora too?"

"Hello," I sheepishly greeted the Breton woman I'd been ignoring completely in order to revel in _dryness._ She was about my age and small for a Breton, with dancing eyes, short brown hair and wearing some sort of leather armour. She was also munching on something that made my stomach remind me that the only thing it had had all of yesterday was breakfast and some kagouti 'meat'. (I use the term loosely.)

I suddenly remembered I hadn't answered her question yet. "Yes, I'm going back to Balmora - I just joined the Mages' Guild there," I explained. I was absolutely not showing off, I told myself. It was relevant information.

"Really? I just joined the Fighter's Guild." At least there were two of us bragging now. "I'm a scout, you see. My name's Fasile."

"I'm Adryn," I responded. I was going to continue, but was interrupted by my stomach deciding to make its general state of emptiness and displeasure at that audible. I blushed.

"Here, take some." Fasile gestured at an open pouch at her side, out of which drifted a lovely smell.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly..." my protest was very weak.

Fasile shook her head, grinning. "I got breakfast to take with me at the tradehouse, and Ashumanu, the owner, gave me far too much - I could never eat all this myself."

"Well, in that case..."

The pouch contained rolls with scrib jelly, which I was very proud at myself for being able to identify. They didn't taste quite as good as the ones I'd had yesterday - the cook here wasn't as dab a hand with the spices as Dulnea - but were fresh out of the oven, and offset nicely by the sweetness of the scrib jelly.

"A scout?" I asked as we chewed. "What does a scout do for the Fighter's Guild?" I'd thought Fighter's Guild members ran more along the lines of big brawny hulking fighters who were confused by words more than two syllables long. Scouts didn't fit into the picture.

"Well, the guild takes a lot of escort and protection quests - travellers hire us to protect them from bandits or the wildlife, people exploring ruins and caves hire us as back-up, that sort of thing. Other times we're asked to hunt down criminals who are trying to hide in the wilderness. Having someone who knows the area and can set up camp and hunt for food in the wild can be very important."

I nodded. "That makes a lot of sense. So what brings you to Suran?"

"Well, Eydis Fire-Eye, she's head of the Balmora guild, she asked me to drop off a message. But it was a good opportunity because I'd be a bad scout if I didn't know a lot about different regions, and I've never been to this area before," Fasile explained. "I mean, imagine what would happen if someone asked to escort them to Suran, or to Marandus, or to the Vandus tomb, and I got them lost? I wouldn't dare call myself a scout after that." She shuddered. "Oh, but, I also picked up something amazing at the shops here! One of the traders had a glass dagger for sale, see?"

I squinted at the weapon she held out to me. There is a euphemism for when something is in particularly bad shape, saying that it 'has seen better days'. This dagger, now, had probably seen better centuries. The hilt seemed to be in the process of dissolving, contrary to the laws of physics, and even from a distance I could tell that with that edge the weapon probably ought to be classified as a blunt instrument, as it wouldn't make a difference whether you hit an enemy with the flat side or the "sharp". I could still tell that somewhere underneath all the chips, scratches, and what looked like old blood that hadn't been cleaned off in so long it might actually have become one with the weapon, the blade was made of some reflective greenish material - wait, had she called it glass? Who in their right mind would make weapons out of glass?

Fasile stared at me for a moment after I voiced this opinion, then laughed. "Oh right, you must be new to Morrowind. This isn't ordinary glass. Volcanic glass is one of the hardest materials known to man and mer, and durable enough that it makes excellent weapons. If you want better, you'd be looking into ebony or Daedric... which is why a glass dagger usually costs around forty septims." Four _thousand_ drakes? I whistled and stared at the weapon with new eyes. "But because it's in such bad shape," understatement of the year, "and because it's really hard to repair glass weapons the trader let me have it for much less!" The girl bounced. And I do literally mean bounced. I paused in the process of reaching for a new roll to blink at her - this was the first time I'd ever seen that outside of literature.

I spotted a flaw in her plan. "But... if it's so hard to repair, will _you_ be able to?"

"Oh, I'll take it to old Wayn. He's the smith at the guild - bit of a stick-in-the-mud but very good at what he does. I'm sure he'll be able to fix it for me." Fasile smiled dreamily - I could almost read the words 'and then I'll have a glass dagger of my very own!' above her head - then blinked as though something had just occurred to her. "But what about you? What brought you to Suran?"

"I was looking for ingredients," I said, ruefully thinking of my vials which currently all contained that precious, rare, difficult to harvest ingredient known as _air_. "I'm an alchemist, one of two at the guild, and our guild mistress asked us to study some of the flowers that grow near Lake Amaya. I had a few... misadventures, and ended up staying the night here."

"That's funny, I don't remember seeing you at the tradehouse last night..."

I decided to take this as an opportunity to practice my poker face. "We must have just missed each other, I'm sure."

"I suppose. Did you at least manage to get the flowers?"

"No," I moaned. "All I got from yesterday were near-death experiences and this map here." I wiped my hands on my trousers and fished the damnable thing out of my pack. "I suppose it's useful to have one, but when you were expecting a reward that's a little, shall we say, shinier and more metallic..."

"Oh, yes," Fasile clucked sympathetically. "Wayn told me it's why the guild insists on a proprely negotiated contract before accepting any missions, to avoid this kind of thing." Yes, thank you for telling me _now._ "Although... wait, can I see that map for a moment?"

I handed it over, puzzled. Fasile took it, stared at it, then spoke a word I didn't quite understand. To my amazement, a glowing dot appeared on the map - I leaned over and saw that it was just at Suran.

"Is that..." I was stunned.

"It's enchanted with a location spell. Some Telvanni worked it out, I hear. They're really expensive - I've seen them selling for almost five septims! I've been thinking of saving up for one." She eyed the map hungrily while I tried to incorporate this new fact into my worldview.

"So when I thought about throwing it away..."

"...it would have been very, very stupid, yes. Whoever gave this to you must have really liked you."

I giggled. It may have sounded slightly hysterical. "No, I... doubt that. I really, really doubt that. I think it's more likely she just didn't know and thought it was a cheap copy off the streets. I mean," I paused for dramatic effect, "when I met her she _was_ holding it upside-down."

We looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"Ahoy the strider!" A new voice, this one, and - to my surprise - unmistakeably tinged with the accent of Wayrest.

I was even more surprised when the owner of the new voice turned out to be a dark- a Dunmer. Given the accent, I'd been expecting a Breton... and wasn't that hypocritical of me, given the amount of people who, upon hearing me open my mouth, probably expected some fur-clad axe-wielding Nord!

But my ruminations on accents and their owners, who are not always quite what you expect, were interrupted when I noticed that the newcomer was surrounded by a glowing purple bubble of energy - one that the raindrops hit and then bounced off.

I may have drooled. If so, it was obviously to do with being a Mages' Guild member confronted with a type of magic I didn't know (a shield spell, something hidden in the dim mists of memory nudged me), about the passionate search for magic-related knowledge of all kinds, and nothing whatsoever to do with a way to stay dry.

"Oh, hi Eddie!" Fasile greeted as she handed the map back (with noticeable reluctance.) Apparently she knew him. "That's a neat trick. So did you get back without getting lost again?"

I hid a grin as 'Eddie', who'd strolled under the awning puffed up with his own cleverness, deflated. "Ah, of course not, I would never..."

"I met him yesterday," Fasile explained to me over his protests. "Said he was looking for Sulipund, but he was going the wrong way, was about to enter an ancestral tomb," a dark expression crossed her face, "and had already managed to fall into Lake Nabia twice. I ended up escorting him there, but I couldn't take him back to Suran and I was worried he'd manage to end up at the Ghostfence or eaten by Daedra at Bal Ur."

It's funny how sometimes, you can read "please let the earth swallow me right now" on people's faces clearer than if they'd spoken out loud.

As I was still smarting from my various misadventures yesterday, I was more sympathetic than I might have been otherwise. So he fell into the lake twice? At least he hadn't almost been killed in a very embarrassing way by a rampaging kagouti. "Well, these things happen, especially when you're not an experienced scout." I smiled encouragingly. "My name's Adryn, by the way."

"Ah! Your sympathy is a salve to my poor wounded soul, o fair flower of beauteousness." He bowed with a flourish. "Edd Theman is your humble servant."

My sympathy vanished like a puff of hot air in a Solitude blizzard.

"I think you must be confused. The bushes are over there, you see. At least, I assume that since you were talking to a 'fair flower of beauteousness' you were trying to address the local plant life, given that I told you my name just now."

"Ah, but such a masculine name hardly suits a gorgeous orchid in this arid wasteland such as yourself-"

"_Excuse me?_"

His shield spell chose that moment to wink out of existence.

Fasile, probably sensing that there would be violence done in a few moments, interrupted. "Look! There's the strider."

oOoOo

The journey back to Balmora was something of a trial, thanks to Edd "call me Fast Eddie" Theman and his idea of what counted as suitable conversation.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't always mind flirting, provided it's in the right time and place and - most importantly - everyone involved knows that it's just for fun and nothing is actually going to happen. If that last condition isn't fulfilled I get to wrack my brains as to how to get it through to the person in question that the only way what they have in mind would be _less_ likely to occur would be if one or both of us were dead. In my experience, this is something that is surprisingly difficult to get through men's heads. A few will back off gracefully, but many of them will react as though you're speaking Aldmeris, and some of them will take you pouring the boiling hot potion of feebleness you were working on over their heads while screaming at them to get out as a sign that "she must really like me!". Eddie was definitely, definitely of the last sort, even though I sadly didn't have any feebleness potions at hand.

Furthermore, he was also of the sort that thinks your eyeballs are located on your chest - particularly egregious as I have been reliably informed that it takes several minutes' concerted study to even tell that I possess one - and as far as his poetry went, it would be undeservedly flattering to call it merely 'dreadful'. I swear that at one point I heard the silt strider moaning in pain, which goes to show that even giant fleas have a greater sense of artistry than _ser_ Theman.

Thankfully for me and my hypothetical life sentence in Imperial prison for murder via pushing someone off a giant flea, Fasile was there and we quickly allied against this threat. One remark of hers, relating his nickname to his stamina when it came to certain activities he was evidently interested in, left him sputtering and us in blessed silence for at least five minutes. As a result, although I was sorely tested I was able to hold out until Balmora without resorting to attempted murder.

I may have set a new speed record for strider disembarking; the people waiting at the strider port in Balmora certainly stared as though I had. Even so, I wasn't quite quick enough to escape Eddie's parting remark of "Look me up at the Lucky Lockup some time, my beautiful pearl!"

"Look up a portal to Oblivion!" I retorted, while resolving never to set foot into the Lucky Lockup. He ignored me.

I was still fuming a little when I stepped into the Mages' Guild after having bid a quick farewell to Fasile, enough that I had to hold back a nasty comment when I saw Marayn crouching in front of the supply chest.

"What are you doing there?" It came out a little more curt than it might have otherwise, but I managed to keep most of my temper out of my voice.

"A new shipment for the supply chest came in this morning, and I'm checking to see if that useless bureaucrat at the mainland has finally got it through his thick head that we need soul gems, not- no, it's all potions to strengthen willpower again. " Marayn slammed the chest shut with a little more force than necessary. At least I wasn't the only one in a bad mood. "As if Ajira can't whip up more than we'd ever need with wickwheat and bloat, especially now that she's got Adryn to- wait a moment." He blinked at me as if he'd only just realised I was present. "Adryn!"

Bad mood or no, I felt a flood of affection towards Marayn in that instant. At least one person on this island had managed to remember my name! "Yes?"

"Where on Nirn have you been?" He frowned. "Ajira's been out of her mind with worry since yesterday evening."

"Well, it's a long story-"

"In that case, tell me later. For now, go downstairs and tell Ajira you're still alive and in one piece so she'll stop turning the guild upside-down. She already almost poisoned someone this morning."

I squirmed guiltily. It wasn't as though I could have done anything about it, but I'd not thought at all about how Ajira might take me vanishing after she sent me on an errand. Especially when the reason she didn't go herself was because she thought it was too dangerous; she'd probably spent all day thinking something horrible had befallen me.

Well, something lethally horrible - given that I thought spending a several-hour silt strider journey in close quarters with a man who had a decidedly overinflated perception of his appeal, wit, and poetic ability certainly qualified as 'something horrible', not to mention the brothel, how could I possibly forget the brothel. And the evil fiend disguised as a pilgrim whose only purpose on Nirn was evidently to torture me. Oh, right, and I supposed almost dying probably counted as well.

Downstairs, things were quiet - it looked as if I'd arrived during the lunch break, because the only person I saw in the room were the Breton, who I'd mentally dubbed 'teleportation girl', and Ajira. The Khajiit was mixing something in a bowl, but I didn't think her mind was exactly on the task given her twitching tail and ears.

Or what she was mixing.

"You know," I said from behind her, "I'm relatively certain you don't actually want to add gravedust mixed in water to minced scamp skin. For one, I'm not sure why you'd want to make a potion that drains your magicka, but more importantly you don't want to add something mainly consisting of water to a hot liquid containing anything that ever touched a Daedra. Trust me on this." I still had the scars. Literally.

Ajira whirled around. "Friend Adryn!" Then I found myself with an armful of relieved Khajiit.

"Um. I'm sorry I worried you. There, there?" I patted her back awkwardly. What were you supposed to do in a situation like this anyway? And what was that sticky feeling on my... oh. "Could you take the stirrer out of my hair, please? I don't know what you were trying to make exactly but I'm relatively sure I don't want it on my scalp."

Ajira disentangled herself, then disentangled the spoon (which was a bit more complicated.) "Ajira was so worried! You are all right! ...you are all right, yes?" Before I could reassure Ajira that yes, I was totally fine bar mental trauma, I found myself with a potion pushed into my hands. "Drink this!"

I checked the label. Healing. "Ajira, I'm fine-"

"_Drink._"

I shrugged and unstoppered it - even though it wasn't necessary, I was happy to let Ajira fuss about me a little to make up for how she'd obviously worried about me.

The potion tingled going down, washing away the aches and pains I still had from yesterday. It tasted surprisingly good compared to the ones I was used to, apart from a bitter aftertaste and a dryness in my mouth.

"Mm, that was good. What was in it?"

"Saltrice and wickwheat," Ajira said. "Not only good ingredients for healing potions but also common foodstuffs, perhaps Adryn has had saltrice porridge already? But more importantly..." her expression shifted to something like I'd always imagined a scolding mother must look like. "Where have you been?"

"Um. It's a long story?"

"Then I shall finish this," Ajira cast a glance at her looming explosion in potion form, "and we shall discuss it over lunch."

oOoOo

The weather had cleared up, so we got "rat-inna-bun" - a kind of meat wrapped in dough roasted over a fire where I could only hope the name wasn't meant literally - from a street vendor, then I followed Ajira to her favourite spot outside. It turned out to be sitting on the northern wall where it passed over the river.

Although the wall was quite low at that point it still wasn't somewhere I'd take my hypothetical old grandmother, since we had to clamber to get onto it and it was narrow enough that even sitting on it required some dexterity and sense of balance. Thankfully, neither of those things had ever been a problem for me - another thing I could thank my birth-sign for - and I could tell why Ajira liked the spot. The view made all the acrobatics worthwhile.

To the northeast, we could see the river winding its way through a valley that broadened beyond the town. I could spot a small boat in the middle of the river - fishing, perhaps? - and another banked on the lush green shore. Further inland, there were tall, surprisingly normal-looking trees and pinpricks of brilliant colour that must have been flowers. The entire scene looked (deceptively, I knew after yesterday) peaceful.

The sunlight flashing off the river made me squint and let my gaze drift beyond it - then up, and up, and further up, my eyes widening. Although I'd only been rained on once, the weather had tended to sullen grey clouds since I'd arrived, and this was my first opportunity to see the incredible mountain they'd apparently been hiding. In fact, the peak was still shrouded, but enough of the rising landscape was visible to make the awe-imposing heights it must reach clear. _Why, that one mountain must be visible from every corner of the island! I've never seen the like._

"This place is beautiful," I said to break the silence.

"Ajira is pleased you think so. She found it when she was very small and has been visiting ever since. She is very glad that now she is big enough people do not try to fetch her back down!" Ajira gave a fanged grin. "Silly tailless folk, thinking we fall as easily as you do."

I gave the appendage a glance - it must make balancing a lot easier. I found myself seized by a sudden moment of tail envy, and groped for another topic to distract myself. "So did you grow up in Balmora?"

"Yes," Ajira answered. "Ajira's mother worked here, once." I was still looking at her tail, and so noticed when it started shifting restlessly. It didn't seem as if this was a topic of conversation she was particularly comfortable with.

Rather than probe further, I took a bite of my rat-inna-bun and decided that even if it was made of E. I didn't care as it was delicious. In fact, if it really did contain actual rat that had its advantages after all. I hadn't forgot my first day on the island - as with the kagouti yesterday, eating them would be poetic revenge given what they'd planned to do to me.

"So what happened yesterday?" The small talk was over.

"Well, I got to Lake Amaya all right, but then..." and again I began to recount the sorry tale.

Ajira made an excellent sympathetic audience. She oohed, aahed and winced in all the right places. She shared my disgust for the horrible pilgrim, nodded understandingly when I related how I ended up looking for the Bosmer's missing friend despite myself, and when I got to the kagouti she could barely sit still from the suspense. "Kagouti! They are dangerous, very dangerous, very aggressive - oh, Ajira will never forgive herself for sending you out," Ajira moaned. "How did friend Adryn survive?"

"Well." I bit my lip. "I managed to paralyse it-"

Ajira's eyes went wide. "You know a paralysis spell? But they are so difficult and - can you teach Ajira?" I had to smile at the imploring look she sent me.

"Sorry, I would if I could but it's not really a spell." I distracted myself with crumbling some of the rat-inna-bun bun and scattering it onto the water. I could see a few tiny fish gathering underneath it - the largest barely as long as my thumb, the smallest only visible due to their bright colour. Why couldn't more of the animals here be like that - reasonably sized, preferring fresh pastry to fresh person? "...I was born under the Lover, you see."

"Ohhhh. Ajira sees. She has never witnessed it herself, but she has read that the Lover-born can paralyse with a touch. It sounds very useful! Ajira is a little jealous - she has no such birthsign abilities, you see."

I looked up, distracted from watching the fish. "Why, what sign were you born under?"

"The Apprentice. Which is why she is only a little jealous." Ajira grinned at me.

I whistled; I was definitely not just a _little_ jealous at that moment. The Apprentice is often considered the single best sign for mages, as those born under it have nothing short of prodigious magicka reserves - almost as much as those born under the Atronach but, unlike those unfortunates, still able to regenerate their own magicka. (Not that I have anything against the Atronach-born. Quite to the contrary, an Atronach-born can be an alchemist's best friend - or more specifically, an Atronach-born's unending need for restore magicka potions.)

"If you want birthsign abilities, I'll gladly trade you!" The Lover, being in the domain of the Thief, is not a birthsign I have ever heard anyone suggest when it comes to the "best sign for mages" competition. Needless to say, my magicka reserves were really nothing to write home about.

"Ajira is sorry, friend Adryn, but she does not think it works that way. Besides, her life would have gone very differently if she had not been born under the Apprentice, and Ajira likes her life the way it is." I cocked my head inquisitively, but Ajira didn't seem inclined to elaborate. Instead, she continued, "At least you can rest assured that there are advantages to being Lover-born. If Ajira were attacked by a wild kagouti she would undoubtedly end her life in its stomach, whereas you defeated the beast-"

"Well, 'defeated' would be putting it a little strongly," I said in a small voice.

Ajira's whiskers twitched inquisitively.

"The Lover's ability costs a lot of energy. I, um. Fainted. Right afterwards."

"Oh, yes! Ajira remembers reading about _that_ as well. Next time," seriously, Ajira was probably younger than I was, she should not be able to manage such an excellent elderly matriarch impression, "you should drink an energising potion immediately beforehand or afterwards."

That was actually a very good idea, except. "Well, I didn't have one with me..."

Ajira looked at me. I sensed that if she had anything to say about it, the next time I left the city walls I would be laden down with so many potions for any possible eventuality that I wouldn't be able to walk.

"So, did the man you rescued kill the beast?" she asked now.

I grimaced at the memory. "No. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was him running away."

My ears perked as I was treated to a long list of what must be genuine Morrowind curses. I made mental note of some of the more colourful - my repertoire could always be bigger.

"-that scamp-spawned cowardly fetcher who Chemua would refuse and Vaermina would be ashamed to count as her own... if friend Adryn ever wishes someone to teach him a lesson about bravery and loyalty to those who put themselves in danger for him, she need only ask Ajira."

She seemed deadly serious, but I had to bite back a laugh imagining Ajira menacing anyone. "Ah, that'll be all right - after all, nobody got hurt in the end. Someone rescued me, a... floating armoire?"

Ajira's tail - previously swishing back and forth angrily - stopped dead. "Buoyant Armiger?"

"Yes, that. Honestly, that name..."

Ajira leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Ajira would be very grateful if friend Adryn did her a favour and _didn't_ mention this to Galbedir or Masalinie."

"What? Why?" Were the Armigers disliked for some reason? But why Galbedir and teleportation girl specifically?

"Because if you tell them, they will not be able to stop talking about it for weeks," Ajira moaned. "It is bad enough with them reading those books all the time. 'The fair maiden and the valiant Armiger', or 'Fadresi Varyes at Molag Mar' or 'hello, the person who drew the cover thought big breasts and muscles were more important than adhering to basic anatomy' - nothing sensible like Saryoni's Sermons or texts about flora or magicka! And then they sigh about how they dream of being rescued by a brave, strong, _handsome_ Buoyant Armiger - friend Adryn, I beg of you, if you tell them they will get carried away and Ajira's desk is directly next to Masalinie, do you understand?"

It sounded as if Buoyant Armigers had more in common with knights than I'd thought - in particular, that they had the same role as popular romance novel stars. And that I'd been more accurate than I'd thought with thinking yesterday evening had been a very cliched set-up. But... "The Armiger who rescued me was a woman. Does that make any difference?"

Ajra fingered her whiskers thoughtfully. "They will be a little less enthusiastic, Ajira believes, but only a little. Male or female it is an Armiger, Adryn understands?"

"So... such relationships are accepted here?" I'd found myself assuming so, given everything I'd grown up hearing about dark elven attitudes towards sex and that Ervesa hadn't reacted badly to the mention yesterday, but it's best to be sure of these things. "I know they're tolerated in Cyrodiil, but a lot of the people in Skyrim frowned on them and in High Rock I heard they were even illegal some places."

Ajira shrugged. "Here, nobody cares, unless the people involved are of a high rank. The daughter of a Redoran noble or of Duke Vedam Dren, she is expected to get married and have children, yes? And if she does not she is called selfish and betraying her family. But such things are rarely the case for the people Ajira knows... unless they have been keeping something from her, she supposes."

We looked at one another, each - I suspected - trying to envision the other as a high-ranking noble swathed in silk and surrounded by servants. At any rate, we both burst into laughter a second later.

Once we'd calmed down, Ajira shot a guilty look at the sun - now noticeably lower in the sky than it had been when we'd left. "Ajira really ought to go back to work. Soon customers will be coming and will be angry that she is not there to sell them potions! If she is not careful, some of her customers will decide it is better to go to Nalcarya 'oooh I am a master alchemist who is much better at everything than a mere Mages' Guild Apprentice, and also my neck has a crick so I cannot lower my nose' of White Haven - er, please do not repeat that," Ajira added anxiously as I started laughing. "But Ajira still has not heard everything that happened to friend Adryn!"

"Well, not much happened," I lied, "I can tell you quickly as we walk back." I tossed the remaining scrap of bun to the fishes and carefully started moving back towards the shore. "It was just, it was quite late by the time I-" woke up, "recovered from the attack. So Ervesa, she's the Armiger, she taught me this spell, to teleport you to the nearest Temple-"

"Ah, Almsivi Intervention," Ajira nodded. "Ajira has heard of it, but does not know it."

"It's not that hard, really. She thought that way I could get back to Balmora that evening. But we ended up landing in this place called Suran..."

"Ah. This is why Ajira does not know that spell! She has heard of enough misadventures like that."

"I don't blame you." I let myself fall to the ground and paused to catch my breath "We ended up having to stay the night." And where, I wasn't going to say.

"Ah, the tradehouse? Ajira has been there before. Ashumanu Eraishah is very nice, don't you think?"

I remembered the smiling face telling us she was very sorry, there were no beds free. "I... didn't really get to know her. I'm sure you're right, though. Anyway," I continued, changing the subject hastily while Ajira was distracted getting back off the wall, "I took the silt strider back in the morning and, well, here I am."

"So not as bad as Ajira feared... still, she will not send friend Adryn out alone again," Ajira said dolefully. "She did not realise it would be so dangerous."

I nodded emphatically. "Honestly, I don't blame you for not wanting to collect the ingredients yourself now."

"Well..." Ajira stopped walking and scuffed at a cobblestone with her foot. "Animals are not entirely what Ajira is worried about."

"What do you mean?" I was confused.

"Ajira supposes friend Adryn deserves to know, since she put herself in danger looking for ingredients Ajira was too afraid to go out for. It is... you are aware that slavery is legal in Morrowind?"

I shivered, remembering the horrible woman from yesterday and her talk of the 'slaves at the plantation'. "I am now."

"The preferred races for slaves, you see, are Khajiit and Argonian." Ajira was staring out over the river, her voice distant. "Other races, Ajira hears they are taken sometimes as well - especially in the east, among the Telvanni - but everywhere, mainly Khajiit and Argonian. The Hlaalu here have great plantations, saltrice and corkbulb and marshmerrow, all tilled by slaves. The Dres on the mainland, even more."

I swallowed convulsively. "That's - that's horrible."

"And of course, all those slaves have to come from somewhere, yes? The Dunmer send expeditions to Black Marsh and Elsweyr, but that is far away - Elsweyr especially - and may make people angry. May make the Empire go 'no, if you don't stop enslaving people from other provinces you may not have slaves any more.' May even start a war. So much easier if they can just catch them right here. They see a Khajiit walking alone in the wilderness and-"

Ajira made a quick motion with her right hand that reminded me of a trap springing shut. "No battles, no diplomatic incident, the leaders in Black Marsh and Elsweyr are happy the Dunmer are not stealing their people, the Dunmer are happy they do not have to fight angry warriors in those places, the Empire is happy they do not have a second Arnesian War threatening to break out. Everyone is happy. Except for the Khajiit."

"I- Ajira, I'm so sorry. I had no idea." Although... "I don't remember seeing anyone who could have been a slaver yesterday, though. Even that horrible pilgrim - she was old and unarmed, if you don't count her tongue. Is it really that dangerous?"

"Ah yes, a lot of people ask Ajira that." She still wasn't meeting my eyes. As usual, the nagging little voice that told me I probably shouldn't have said that popped up after the fact. "Say that it cannot possibly be so dangerous so close to town. That there are no slavers near Balmora. Except." Her voice was growing quieter and quieter, to the point where I had to lean in close to make sure I understood her. "That is what Ajira's sister thought."

Her sister thou-?

Oh.

I suddenly felt as though I'd just had a big meal consisting not of rat-inna-bun but of Adryn's foot, garnished with offensiveness and with a side dish of being a oblivious donkey who should learn to think before she speaks. It's a meal I find myself having relatively regularly, but not usually in this sort of size and it doesn't usually lie quite so heavily in my stomach.

"I- Nine, Ajira, I'm sorry- I didn't know. I shouldn't have said that. That's awful. I... I'm sorry about your sister." What _did_ you do in this sort of situation? Someone should publish a book: 'The guide to properly apologising and sympathising once you have yet again managed to unintentionally deeply offend someone and remind them of various horrible past experiences.' I'd buy it.

Ajira sighed gustily and turned her head to look at me. "It is all right. Friend Adryn did not know, and it happened some years ago. Just... Ajira is very, very careful now. And she does not go out of town without escort."

"I understand. Really, I'm sorry," I repeated in a small voice.

"It is really all right, but..." Ajira gave a small smile. "If she wants to make it up to me, friend Adryn can read through Ajira's reports and tell her if they are all right or if anything needs to be changed. After all, they are on the experiments we did together."

I seized the change of topic like a drowning mer. "I can definitely do that. How did you describe the poison effects in the end?"

"Well, Ajira thought it best to make clear from the start that they were two entirely different types of poison, with the violet corprinus's being closer in type to bittergreen in the way it causes palpitations of the heart as opposed to the stomach cramps induced by the luminous russula, but she did put aside a section to speaking of their combination..."

oOoOo

I stared at the reports and tried very, very hard to control my expression. Because at the moment I was dangerously close to bursting out into laughter, and with an anxiously shifting Ajira standing next to me I suspected both would be the end of our friendly working relationship.

"Well? What do you think?"

I took another moment to impress it on my facial muscles that they were going to do what I wanted them to do, thank you very much, this was not up for vote. "It's. Ah. You've definitely written down everything we've discussed." Written it down, in fact, in _exactly_ the way we'd discussed. Complete with, for instance, remarks about how Galbedir was most undeserving of being raised to Journeyman status, totally theoretical digressions about what effects a potion that drained intelligence would have slipped into her morning tea, and complaints about how lazy and unreliable the local apothecaries were. I had to admit, if this style were widely adopted in academic writing scholarship would become a lot more amusing. And blood feuds between alchemists much more common, admittedly, but I would consider that an acceptable side effect.

"That is good, no? Ajira made sure not to leave anything out in case it was important!"

Yes. She'd certainly done that.

I pondered how to break it to her. "Ajira... how much experience do you have with formal academic writing?"

"Um." Ajira looked away. "This is the first time Ajira has ever written a report like this."

Somehow, I wasn't surprised.

"And what about reading it? Have you read many textbooks, papers by researching alchemists, that sort of thing?"

Ajira was shaking her head. "Only very little. Those which are here in the guild, they are mostly about such alchemy as uses the ingredients available in Cyrodiil, yes? Much writing about the uses of arrowroot or lotus seeds, very little about gold kanet or trama root or the mushrooms. It is one reason the honoured Ranis Athrys has asked Ajira to investigate such things. And before she joined the guild..." Ajira seemed suddenly fascinated by the stained counter. "Ajira did not have access to such things at all. She learned on her own."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'm mostly self-taught myself," and was equally familiar with the derision one experienced as an alchemist without a proper training pedigree. Even taking my general cynicism into account, it's surprising how many people care nothing about whether or not you can actually brew a potion in favour of whether or not your family was able to pay your way into the Arcane University. I keep hoping for the day where they all end up poisoned by the sorts of incompetents with more book learning than sense they call "real alchemists".

Judging by Ajira's downtrodden expression, it was the same here. I patted her shoulder gingerly. "It doesn't mean we're worse alchemists - in fact, I think we're better for having had to work everything out on our own. But it makes it hard to pick up things like the style of academic writing, and Ranis probably expects you to use that."

Ajira stared at me hopefully. "Can you teach Ajira, then?"

I'd walked straight into that one, hadn't I.

oOoOo

I stood behind the alchemy desk musing over the strange turns that life takes.

I'd spent some time giving Ajira pointers (mostly along the lines of "no, you should not explain exactly why Nalcarya is an awful person and horrible alchemist who doesn't deserve the customers she has, even if her refusal to sell you any ingredients did mean you couldn't do half the experiments you wanted"). Thankfully, this had gone relatively well - Ajira had honestly wanted to know how to make her writing formal enough to pass muster and hadn't taken offense at any of the things I'd pointed out, which was something I'd been worried about. I'd tried to be tactful, but... well. Tact and I have never been the best of friends. In fact, our relationship could probably be more closely described as somewhere in between chilly hostility and open warfare, given what generally happened when I tried to get tact on my side. Most likely I'd dreadfully offended it at one point without meaning to. That happens more than I'd like.

At any rate, after a detailed and thankfully friendly discussion about the do's and don't's of report writing, at least as far as I understood them, Ajira had decided to retreat and rewrite her report. However, given that it was Fredas afternoon, business had picked up and Ajira couldn't just leave the alchemy desk unattended. But since fortune had it that there happened to be another alchemist standing around with nothing to do now that she'd finished her imparting of wisdom...

All of which, together with Ajira's best sad kitten impression and use of "friend Adryn" (a combination that was so devastatingly effective it ought to be banned) led to me selling Guild potions to the townsfolk. Being a merchant. Being, in other words - I shuddered inwardly - positively _respectable._ Or as respectable as it's possible to be when you still feel as if you ought to be stealing the potions instead of selling them. Which was still far more respectable than I found entirely comfortable; I couldn't help the feeling that some fundamental law of nature had been violated and as soon as nature realised it disaster would follow.

Unless it already had and "disaster" was taking the form of "customers". I wouldn't be surprised.

The walking disaster I was dealing with right now still hadn't finished his appraisal of a simple energising potion, despite my lengthy mental digression. At the beginning, I'd thought the old Imperial must be a master alchemist himself, given how carefully he was studying the list of ingredients on the label. Now, my thoughts were going along decidedly more uncharitable lines, including but not limited to speculation about how well the pair of spectacles on his nose actually worked.

"You. Girl." I fought down the sudden burst of rage by mentally repeating _a merchant does not start screaming at her customers_ until I was sure I could stay in control of myself. It had been my mantra for the afternoon, and I felt my close adherence to it made me a veritable candidate for the Psijic Order. "What's in this potion?"

_A merchant does not start screaming at her customers._

"Excuse me," I said through gritted teeth. "Could you hand me the bottle so I can read the label?" _The one you've been staring at for the last however many minutes, apparently without picking up a single word of it-_

He stared at me for a long moment until I was already preparing myself for him to tell me how it was an utter disgrace that I didn't know the ingredients of every single potion in the place by memory (something he would not, sadly, have been the first person to attempt). Thankfully for my temper, he handed it over quietly in the end.

"Well, if you just read this label here," I was proud of myself for managing to keep that sentence only moderately sarcastic, "you'll see that it contains water, kresh weed pulp, minced kwama egg hide-"

"Kwama egg!" the man spat. "You use that filthy stuff in your potions?"

I stared at him. "Er... is there a problem with kwama eggs?"

"You expect me to drink something that came out of an insect? Vaermina's filthy creatures, they are. Bad enough you dark elves eat them, but trying to hide`the vile stuff in potions so good honest folk like me get fooled into-"

I squeezed my eyes shut. _A merchant does not scream at her customers._ Even if they are insistent on explaining to you how your race's diet makes you barbarians. Weren't Bosmer the usual suspects for that kind of thing-

Wait, hadn't Ajira pointed out the cupboard with alternate potion formulations to me? She'd said it was for customers with allergies, but I was willing to make an exception for this man if it would make him stop shouting at me about the evils of kwama eggs.

"Just a moment, I may have something." I opened the cupboard door - yes, there it was, energising potion, thankfully without anything kwama-related. I drew the bottle out. "This one doesn't contain kwama egg," I explained. "The ingredients are water, chokeweed, hackle-lo, some alcohol-"

"Alcohol? _Alcohol?_"

Oh no.

The man's expression said I could expect spittle flying any minute now, so I ducked in precaution as he raged on. "I walk into the guild expecting to find reputable alchemists, not - not - harlots pretending to respectability in order to cater to drunkards!"

Harl... _excuse me?_

All right, that was it. Merchants not screaming at their customers was all very well and good but I wasn't even one anyway, just a very out-of-place substitute.

"Actually," I snapped, cutting across the man's invective about how he would make sure I got kicked out the guild to starve, "the alcohol is a byproduct, used because some ingredients are easier to store and more effective after fermentation. Morever, so much of it is boiled off during preparation that in order to actually get drunk off it you'd need to take so many that you wouldn't sleep for days. If you're worried about potion abuse, you should be worrying about _that_, not two drops of alcohol."

And really, that was where I was used to the moral outrage starting. Alcohol content was definitely a new one for me, but the abuses of rejuvenating and energy-fortifying potions among students at the Arcane University so that they can study for three days straight are talked about throughout the Empire, and there'd been talk about banning or restricting speed-boosting potions in Skyrim for as long as I'd lived there. Ludicrously so, I'd thought, since they're really harmless. Even I, with my general dislike of altering my state of mind, had tried them the first time I got my hands on the ingredients several years ago and spent a very pleasant evening bouncing around with-

The man who had a moral objection to kwama egg, alcohol, and - I suspected - at least one ingredient of every potion we stocked, had apparently ignored my interjection entirely and was still talking. Ordinarily, I'd have felt guilty about tuning him out, but for some reason I had the impression I wasn't going to have missed much.

"-trying to ply their dreadful homebrew to innocent customers, this would never happen in the Imperial Cult-"

See?

"Well," a new voice interrupted, "if you're so upset this place isn't like the Cult, why don't you go there to buy your potions? Fort Moonmoth isn't that far away, after all."

Both I and the plague on the life of innocent attempting-to-be-merchants turned to look at the newcomer.

A Redguard woman had apparently been waiting behind the outraged Imperial until she couldn't keep herself from intervening. Since she was apparently on my side, I found myself not minding in the slightest.

Backed up by my unexpected ally, I added, "Yes, it's only half an hour's walk or so." I'd passed the fort on both silt strider journeys and my ill-fated flower-gathering journey already, so I was becoming familiar with the area. "Or-" maybe I shouldn't be so eager to lose Ajira a customer, "if you tell me the ingredients you do _not_ have any moral objections to, I can see if we have any potions that meet your specifications."

I thought this was an eminently reasonable suggestion, but the man just huffed wordlessly, turned, and strode towards the exit. I had to admit that, customer or not, I really wasn't sorry to see him go.

I turned to the Redguard. "Thank you, and I'm sorry you had to see that. Do you want any potions?" Dealing with a customer who didn't treat me as either some sort of potion-dispensing Dwemer automaton or a verbal punching bag would be a nice change - but she was shaking her head.

"No, no, I'm not here to buy anything. Er- is Ajira here? Because earlier she asked me to get her this bowl." She hefted a ceramic bowl which I hadn't noticed her holding before. Probably for the best, as I'd only have been tempted to use it to attempt to whack sense into a certain someone's head.

"Yes, she's in the back."

I pulled back the curtain that led to the alchemy lab. Even having only been here for a few days, I knew that ordinarily I'd have been met by the comforting, homey sounds of potions on the verge of bubbling over and melting the countertop along with panicked shouts as the alchemist inhabitant tried to salvage the mess. However, today all was quiet - well, quiet except for the frustrated groans of someone attempting to write up a report. It was positively alien; only the chemical fumes (all the ventilation shafts in the world can only do so much) made it seem familiar again.

Ajira looked up when she saw me. "Friend Adryn! Would it be better to write 'the outcome' or 'the result' of an experiment?"

Apparently my instructions had given her the mistaken impression that I was some kind of expert here, someone who submitted reports to the _Skyrim Mages Guild Journal of Alchemy_ or even the _Arcane University's Alchemy Monthly_ to have them read by other alchemists all over the Empire. "I'm not sure," I told Ajira, dashing all those beliefs. "Both sound reasonable. Also, there's this woman saying you asked her to bring her a ceramic bowl?"

"Oh, Jamexa, yes - she is a new member, does Adryn know? She was asking around for duties, and Ajira needed a new bowl." Wait. So I was sent on dangerous trips into the wilderness involving angry kagouti, misjudged teleportation spells and brothels, but she got to go shopping? How was this remotely fair? "But now Ajira has to finish this report, Ranis Athrys is asking for it and Galbedir has already finished hers! Could friend Adryn give Jamexa this potion as a reward and tell her Ajira is very sorry, she does not have the time to give her new duties right now?"

Ajira barely waited until I nodded - grudgingly (reward? What was this reward business?) - before she started to bend over her parchment again. I had to hide a smile when I noticed how she stole a longing glance at the alembic in the corner before gripping her quill.

Outside, Jamexa accepted the potion (healing) with a smile and information that no new duties would be forthcoming with a shrug. "I was expecting it, to be honest," was her comment. "Ajira really didn't know what to do with me. She was already reaching with the last one. I'm Jamexa, by the way, but everyone just calls me Jamie. Except for Ajira, that is - I'm not sure Khajiit really understand the idea of nicknames."

"Oh, right. I'm Adryn."

I eyed Jamie suspiciously. She had a sword sheathed at her side; the callouses I'd spotted on her hands giving her the potion and the way she hadn't tripped over it yet (a feat I certainly could not have managed) spoke that she was well-practiced in its use. She wore the quilted jacket I knew many people wore under armour, and I had some suspicions that the bulging pack at her side contained exactly that. In other words, she looked an even more unlikely Mages' Guild member than me - but more importantly, she looked like the perfect person to send into the wild on dangerous ingredient-hunting expeditions.

I told her so.

"Well." Jamie shifted uncomfortably. "She did try sending me out to collect mushrooms at the start."

Suppressed giggles told me Teleportation Girl was again listening in on our conversation. Jamie scowled in her general direction. "Look, I'm from Kvatch, all right? Second biggest city in Cyrodiil? I've barely ever been outside city walls, my family aren't alchemists or mages or anything like that, how do you expect me to know these things? I tell you, _anyone_ could have mistaken the dried rat droppings for mushrooms-"

All right, I suddenly understood why Ajira had sent me out instead.

"Sorry," I said once I'd managed to stop laughing. "Just- you _actually-_ er. I guess you really must not be an alchemist, then, I can't imagine even an apprentice making that mistake."

For a moment, Jamie looked as though she were going to take offense - _violent_ offense - to what I'd just said (my amazing powers of tactlessness, striking again), then she sighed.

"Honestly, I'm not much of a mage. I know enough Alteration magic and healing spells to get by, but I mainly joined for the services. I figured that since I had joined, I might as well help out." She shrugged. "I'm more of a warrior anyway," oh really? I would never have guessed, "but I'm new to Morrowind and looking for an organisation where I can fit in."

"She was even in the Imperial Legion for a while!" Teleportation Girl chirped. After a few seconds - which felt like an eternity of sheer horror on my part - she added, "For about ten minutes, that is."

Jamie groaned. "Masalinie, do you have to tell that story to anyone who stands still long enough?"

"But it's a great story! And besides," Teleportation Girl smirked, "we may have the shortest-serving Legion soldier in history. No other guild can say that!"

"Wait," I said, startled out of my automatic reaction to the Imperial Legion (which runs along the lines of excessive screaming, sometimes mental and sometimes not, generally followed by running). "Ten minutes? How does that work?" Surely even being thrown out for gross incompetence - and considering the Legion, it must be very gross incompetence indeed - took longer than that.

"Well, this is a bit of a long story. Do you want to hear it?"

Somehow, despite Jamie's affected reluctance, I got the impression that she loved telling this. I looked around - the afternoon customer rush seemed to have died down, and the only non-Guild member still in the building was an elderly woman who was asking Estirdalin for a spell to dry laundry. My skepticism was clearly mirrored on Estirdalin's face.

"Sure. Go grab a seat," I nodded at one of the stools near the desk, "I'll make us some tea."

I would have gone ahead and made the tea in an alembic and served it in beakers, but Teleportation Girl pointed me towards a cupboard in the corner. I fished out the battered kettle, raised an eyebrow at the collection of clay mugs and leather tankards the guild had apparently amassed and raised the other eyebrow at the inscriptions they'd picked up along the way.

"Someone figured out that you could use a controlled Fire spell to etch designs on tankards, then one of Ajira's failed potions turned out to work very well as paint and then, well, we may have gone slightly overboard," the Breton explained as I pondered the cup with "Battlemages do it with great balls of fire!" written on it in wobbly red letters. "Just take some- no, not the plain one, that's Sharn gra-Muzgrob's-"

I carefully selected three mugs, making sure to leave Sharn's, the one labelled "Guild Mistress", and (after some consideration of both the Bosmer's reaction and what a certain intrepid Khajiit alchemist might have already added to it) the one with "Galbedir's! DO NOT TOUCH" written on it in glowing blue script in the cupboard, then turned to making tea.

And oh, I forgave Ajira all her oddities - ranging from Khajiit grammar over being hilariously incapable of writing a proper report to sending me out on suicidal ingredient-finding missions - for tipping me off about hackle-lo tea with honey before she'd withdrawn to wage her quill-wielding battles. The tea wasn't as good as Dulnea's brew, but that didn't really say much, and it was absolutely ideal for early evening lethargia. Refreshing and effective in restoring your energy, without the jitters and insomnia my previous tactic of sipping energising potions gave you, and with a lovely sweet, slightly minty taste. What more could an alchemist ask for?

Judging by her expression Jamie seemed to agree, which made my culinary heart swell with pride. She closed her eyes and inhaled the steam for a moment, then launched into her story.

"I only arrived in Vvardenfell a few weeks ago," Jamie began. "And when I came here, I didn't have much more than the clothes on my back. So when I heard about the Imperial Legion recruiting up in Gnisis, I thought, why not give it a try? I'd never really considered joining the Legion before, but they supply recruits with armour. That really clinched it - I can't fight effectively without it, but I couldn't afford to buy any of my own."

So far, this all made sense. I had a sudden, unexpected burst of sympathy for all the people who must get snared and then brainwashed by the Legion this way.

Jamie took another long drink of tea and continued. "When I got to Gnisis, I went to speak to Darius, this commander of theirs. Lazy honoured user, that man - spends all his time sitting in the local tradehouse drinking ale instead of actually checking on his officers, and vain enough he got them to name the fort after him." She scowled. "Anyway, he said he'd be happy to have me, and in fact that he needed a newcomer he could use as a sort of independent agent. That suited me pretty well - I didn't think I'd make a good rank and file soldier, you know? I ask too many questions. So he sent me off to get my armour from the quartermaster-"

"Which took about ten minutes," the Breton threw in, grinning broadly.

Jamie frowned at her. "Who's telling this story, you or me?"

"Sorry," she said, not sounding particularly repentant.

"Anyway," Jamie turned back to me, "she's right, I don't think it took more than ten minutes. Apparently having armour that actually fits is a _privilege of rank_," she quoted acidly. "So quite soon I was standing in front of Darius again in a chainmail shirt that would have been big on an Orc."

"And then what happened?" I asked, fascinated.

"He looked at me and told me had a mission for me. Namely, apparently a widow in town owned a farm on land the Legion wanted to expand on. He wanted me to get the land deed off her." A dramatic pause. "He said he didn't particularly care as to how."

Judging by the glances Teleportation Girl and Jamie were shooting at me, they expected me to be outraged.

They weren't disappointed.

"_Really?_" I sputtered, appalled. "He- he just- I mean, I always knew the Legion was corrupt, but to just-"

Jamie nodded earnestly. "Really. I had about the same reaction."

"What did you do?"

"Really the only thing I could do," Jamie said. "I threw the armour they'd given me into his face - good thing it was so big, I could get it off easily - and told him that I was resigning immediately because he was a rotten fetcher who was probably here because no legion in Cyrodiil would accept him even as a boot-cleaner and I wouldn't be part of the sort of filth he was wallowing in for a thousand septims. Then I marched out while everyone was still too busy gaping to do anything."

The smile that spread across my face was so broad it made my cheeks hurt. "That's _amazing,_" I said with feeling. Imagining that scene made it hard to keep from bursting into applause, or laughter, or both, then and there.

"Thank you! And - do you know what the worst part was?"

"What?" I asked, agog.

"After that, I went to this woman - Vabdas, he'd told me her name - to warn her about what the Legion was planning. I figured it was only a matter of time before Darius found someone else to do his dirty business, you know? It turned out that her husband had only died very recently, under mysterious circumstances." She paused meaningfully. "Suspiciously mysterious circumstances."

"You don't mean..."

"I investigated it," Jamie said. "It wasn't as if I had anything else to do, and Tareyni - the widow - she was nice, you know, and still grieving for her husband and she didn't even know how he'd died. Snuck into the mine at night - it's a long story, but it turned out he was killed by a Legionnaire.

"That's right," she nodded at my shocked gasp. "I found some evidence - the murderer had left his axe still in the body, even. Took that to the village hetman. I hear he's going on trial next Sundas. Should be a short one, since he confessed - good riddance, I say." She pursed her lips-

"Please don't spit on our floors," I said hastily.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"But, really," I said after the danger of saliva on our flooring, and possibly me as the low-ranking new guild member who _didn't_ argue with Imperial Legion generals for fun told to clean it up, had passed. "This guy wants the land, and the poor woman's husband just so happens to get killed by one of his subordinates..."

"I know," Jamie said. "After Darius heard about it, he acted all outraged, apologised to the widow and everything - but of course he could hardly do anything differently now that the whole town had heard about it, could he?" She shrugged. "At least now he's not going to try getting at her land again if he has the slightest bit of sense. He'd have a rebellion on his hands."

"I'll drink to that." Teleportation Girl toasted Darius's frustration with her mug, then looked into it. "Or I would, if I had any tea left."

"I can make another-" I began.

"Uh, excuse me?"

We all turned.

"Sorry to bother you," the Breton standing behind us continued, "it's just, I'm looking for a potion to cure... um..." He looked at Jamie and Teleportation Girl. "Is there any chance of a little privacy?"

Jamie set the empty mug on the desk and stood. "I need to go see someone at the Fighter's Guild anyway," she commented. And even Teleportation Girl seemed to suddenly realise that travellers could be coming through any moment now. I mourned my tea break.

"So, um, the problem is..."

As the customer shuffled his feet, I mentally weighed the odds on this being chronic indigestion, a very _intimate_ disease, or problems with a rather specific sort of stamina. At least he looked embarrassed enough that I didn't think it was a pretext to attempt (badly) to flirt with me... unlike the Imperial earlier. I can only thank the Nine for other races' fire resistance, or rather the lack thereof - a handful of flickering flames would never have sent a Dunmer scurrying that quickly.

Ah... business as usual.


	6. Morning in Balmora

**Warnings: **None for this chapter.

oOoOo

The next morning found me wandering towards the Eight Plates with a spring in my step and a broad smile on my face. Now, let me hasten to make clear that this is not a typical state of events; overall I find being a grumpy curmudgeon quite enjoyable, thank you very much. However, last night marked the first of what I hoped would be many occasions known as "Adryn sleeps through the night and does not have a nightmare". Correspondingly, this was the first morning since I'd arrived that I actually felt well-rested. I had dreamt, true, but the few fragments I could remember now were surreal but harmless and the worst it had caused me was a momentary disorientation waking. A far cry from my restless nights before, and reason enough for a good mood.

Perhaps my threats yesterday morning had had an effect? If so, I found myself rather underwhelmed by this "soul-sickness" and pitying the poor fools who didn't have the strength of will to stand up to it. Or maybe my dreams had really only been difficulty adjusting to Vvardenfell after all.

"Ah- Adryn, wasn't it?" Dulnea bustled up to me after I stepped into the inn. "I thought I might be seeing you again, after Estirdalin told me you'd joined the Mages Guild." Her eyes roved over my form in a way that would have made me much more uncomfortable if I hadn't suspected she was mainly interested in the embroidered robe I was wearing. "So you did visit Millie - that's a much better look for you." She clucked. "It's good to see you didn't come to any harm visiting that- that-"

I had to agree with her distaste at the thought of Caius, although I suspected my reasons for it were rather different from hers. All the same, best to head her off... what had that cover story been again...

Had I just actually thought the words "cover story"? When had my life turned into a bad spy novel?

I swallowed hard to keep myself from throwing up and launched into my explanation. "Oh, Cosades? Apparently he's an amateur historian or something, got a shipment of books he needed. If I were him, I'd spend less money on building up my library and more on moving into a nicer place, but..." I attempted a nonchalant shrug. "At least he paid me," paid _for_ me, more like, and if I didn't stop this line of thought right not I was not going to be able to stomach breakfast, "and now I'm in the Guild."

"Hmm." Dulnea narrowed her eyes at me. "As long as you're away from that sort of thing now."

Desperately wishing I were, I nodded, not trusting myself to open my mouth.

"And how have you..." Dulnea's voice dropped, "your dreams been?"

I'd really meant to scold her for frightening me so, but all my anger faded away when I realised she was genuinely worried about me. "Oh, they're gone," I said airily. "Probably just trouble settling in. Nothing serious."

"That'- that's excellent." Dulnea looked almost more relieved than I'd been. "I'm glad things are going so well for you, dear. Now, I'd best be getting back to work - the mages' breakfast is through here, there are already quite a few people here."

I thanked Dulnea and slipped through the door she indicated into another room, this one dominated by a long wooden table set with various breakfast items - I could see spiced rolls, a jar of scrib jelly, a big bowl of what looked like some sort of porridge, a large teapot with- could it be?

_Tea._

"Over here, Adryn."

I blinked, and realised that in my focus on food and divine nectar of the gods I'd totally ignored the people sitting around the table. One of them had just pulled out the chair next to him.

"Thanks, Marayn," I said as I sat down. "Er, can someone pass-"

"Tea coming right up," the Dunmer woman across from me said with a grin as she reached for the pot. "You're not the first person to come here with that expression on your face."

A few moments later I had a hot cup of liquid joy in my hand, and a few moments after that I was in alchemical heaven.

There was the smoky taste - scathecraw, Ajira had said - but it wasn't overpowering. It was balanced by something spicy and a sweetness that wasn't honey or sugar, but the thing that truly offset the acridity was a subtle undertone of something refreshing, the tiniest bit minty and... familiar?

Was that hackle-lo?

I opened my eyes in triumph. Another ingredient down! True, I still had no idea of amount or preparation, but given how unfamiliar I was with local ingredients any progress was something to be proud of.

The other woman giggled, something I might have taken offense to if I hadn't still been kindly disposed towards her for procuring the tea. "I don't think I've ever seen someone drink even Dulnea's tea with such _concentration_ before," she said when I looked at her.

"I'm trying to work out the recipe," I explained. "My pride as an alchemist is at stake."

A scoff from the other end of the table interrupted me.

"Is there a problem?" I asked the Altmer who'd decided to prove he had no manners.

"As if you could," he drawled. "All the best alchemists in the guild - all the best alchemists on this benighted island, in other words - have been trying to work out the mixture to no avail. Anarenen, Ernand, and of course myself have spent hours bending our minds to the task. I can hardly believe some arrogant slip of a girl expects to make progress where we have failed."

Groans and eye-rolls around the table told me this attitude was common and not supported by the other people present, but I still wasn't going to take that lying down. "Well, I can hardly believe the guild employs giant peacocks, I thought it restricted itself to people. Moreover, I thought all of the members had to have something of substance in their heads. Apparently hot air is enough to qualify you."

The giant peacock's head grew red and he subsided as numerous people laughed.

"Nice one! I'll have to remember that," the woman across from me said. "I'm sorry for the idiot, who I happen to have the great misfortune of sharing a guild with. Our Guildmaster says he'll grow out of it one day, but I'm doubtful. I'm Uleni, by the way, Uleni Heleran - conjurer from the Sadrith Mora guild. The idiot is Tusamircil, but we're training him to respond to 'the idiot' so you don't have to bother remembering his name."

"Adryn," I introduced myself, ignoring the sputtering coming from the idiot's general direction. "I, in turn, seem to have the misfortune of sharing a profession with the idiot. I'm an alchemist - well, I guess that's a little obvious."

I grabbed a roll from a nearby basket and looked around. Although there were quite a few people I didn't recognise, there were also some from the Balmora guild there - Marayn next to me, Teleportation Girl scarfing down porridge over there, Galbedir steadily ignoring everyone, Estirdalin (thankfully a few seats away) in deep conversation with an Argonian next to her-

I blinked as I became consciously aware of an absence that had been nagging at me since I came in.

"Where's Ajira?" Hadn't she said she always ate here?

"Oh, she's never here on weekends," Marayn said. "She always goes into the guild straight away on Loredas so she can leave before noon."

Galbedir sniffed. "Some dedication. And she thinks she's ready to become a Journeyman."

I sent as threatening a glare as I could manage in her direction, which she ignored completely. It stung, but I had to admit that I was at a natural disadvantage as far as threatening went - of the two of us she was the one who probably fought Daedra and studied deadly Ayleid artifacts for her living. The _Hirtus Figulus, the Enchanter's Apprentice_ series I'd loved as a child (I could still remember parts of _Hirtus Figulus and the Brotherhood of the Bone Hawk_ by heart) had left me with a healthy respect for enchanters. It persisted despite Galbedir's best attempts.

"Now that's not fair," Marayn said, frowning. "Ajira earns it with how hard she works the rest of the week. Besides, most of us take part of the weekend off."

"Yeah," Teleportation Girl muttered into her porridge, "most of us."

"Still," Galbedir wasn't willing to let it rest, "that, and all the times she 'had to' leave early during the week... don't you wonder what's so important? For all we know-"

"Maybe she has a boyfriend!" Teleportation Girl threw in, a thought that apparently cheered her up immensely. "Oooh, I wonder who it is? I've seen her talking with that handsome young Khajiit who owns the shop next door."

"Well-"

"Seriously, is that all you ever think about?" I asked Teleportation Girl, cutting off whatever poisonous remark Galbedir had been about to make.

"What? It's exciting!"

I was about to make a comment about _her_ dedication to her art if she had let romance novels rot her mind this far when Marayn jabbed me in the side with an elbow.

"Still," Galbedir doggedly refused to let the topic go, "you don't seriously think that's what's keeping her. I mean, don't you know what her mother-"

A new voice joined the fray. "Apprentice Galbedir, if there is a problem with Apprentice Ajira, it is the duty of your guild mistress to address it. Not yours. And all should note it is impolite to gossip about our fellow members' private lives." The Argonian's voice was serene, but with a quiet undercurrent of authority that made everyone subside.

I was a little disappointed the gossip session had been curtailed (Ajira's mother? What about Ajira's mother?) but squashed that feeling down. If Ajira wanted me to know, she'd tell me, same as she'd done about her sister - and it wasn't as if I'd appreciate her digging into _my_ past. Not to mention that whatever it was, I somehow doubted she'd want it laid out before the entire breakfast group by Galbedir of all people.

My side twinged; Marayn had exceptionally sharp elbows. I rubbed it pointedly and stared at him. "What was that all about?"

He looked around. Galbedir was again studiously ignoring us - I hoped she'd keep up with it this time - and Teleportation Girl had gone back to her porridge. "I can't deny that Masalinie is a little silly sometimes," he said quietly. "But it gives her something to do when she has to stand there all day. Being a guild guide is a very important job, but it's also a very boring job, and one that comes with sacrifices. Don't be so hard on her."

"I know I wouldn't be one for love or money," Uleni chimed in. "I see what Iniel has to deal with."

I shrugged. I still thought she could fill her time with more useful things, but it wasn't really something I cared to argue about. I also noted that Marayn hadn't bothered trying to defend Galbedir. "All right, all right. Pass the scrib jelly, would you?"

"You like scrib jelly?" Uleni asked as I slathered some on a roll.

I squashed my impulse to point out that if I didn't, I wouldn't very well be eating it, and just nodded instead. It helped that my mouth was full.

"Do you realise where it comes from?" There was a mischievous sparkle in Uleni's eyes.

I swallowed. "I don't have the faintest idea. My first guess would have been a sort of honey, but the texture is all wrong. Maybe some kind of fruit jam? But it doesn't really taste like fruit..."

"Ooh, no, you're quite far off. Scrib jelly is made from scribs, a kind of kwama." Uleni paused dramatically. "In other words, insects."

I blinked at her.

"You know, insects?" Uleni seemed disappointed by my lack of reaction. "Wriggly animals with lots of legs?" She wiggled her fingers at me in what I decided must be either a dreadful attempt at pantomime or a very strange muscle tic.

"Yes," I said slowly. "I know what insects are, thank you very much. And it's good to know where scrib jelly is from, thank you," I added, wondering if she was looking for acknowledgement. "It explains why it tastes so different. What part of the scrib do you use, and why is it so sweet? Do scribs gather nectar?"

Uleni was still staring at me with a betrayed look on her face - really, what was it she was looking for? Then Marayn started laughing.

"Really, Uleni," he managed, "didn't you realise that playing "disgust the outlander" wouldn't work very well on an alchemist?"

"Aw," Uleni pouted. "People usually have such funny reactions! An Altmer from one of the Cyrodiil guilds actually ran outside to throw up when I did the fingers." She giggled.

"Wait," I said, blinking. "You expected me to be upset by eating something made from insects? But it's not even poisonous, or explosive, or acidic, or still alive-"

At that point I had to stop because I could barely hear myself over Marayn's laughter.

"Point well taken. I'll keep it in mind: you can't shock an alchemist with edibles. Something of a challenge, hmm?" Uleni smiled at me. For some reason, a cold shiver went down my spine at the sight. "Well, I'd best get back. One of the Fighter's Guild members commissioned a custom night eye spell, he said he was going to pick it up this morning. Masalinie, would you?"

Suddenly there was a great hubbub as most of the table seemed to rise to their feet, similar explanations on their lips. "-can't possibly be away from my workstation this long," the idiot was saying pompously, and I caught a Breton talking about how it had been wonderful to catch up but she had a shipment of filled soul gems coming in, so sorry, must rush.

Teleportation Girl scowled for a moment as she gulped down the last of her tea, then she got up and walked to a corner. "All right, all right, one at a time. Anyone going to Ald'ruhn? No? Caldera? Oh, Medila. You know the drill, just step over here-"

In no time at all, most of the breakfast group had vanished into the ether. The only ones left were Balmorans - no, the Argonian was still here. "Thank you for the offer, Masalinie," he was saying, "but I have some business in Balmora this morning. I shall travel back from the guild later."

"I didn't realise you could do that outside the guild building," I told Teleportation Girl. Now that I had a teleportation spell under my belt, I found myself curious about how the guild guide system worked. From everything I'd gathered yesterday, I'd thought the departure and arrival point had to be the stone platform.

"The spell is anchored to a spot, yes, but there's a bit of flexibility," Teleportation Girl explained. "This is about as far as I can get and still connect to the spell matrix. My range is good, too - Iniel can barely get out of the room." She sounded proud. "Erranil, in Ald'ruhn, is best. She says she can get almost to Skar before she loses the magicka flow."

"I had no idea - I thought you could only work from the platform."

"Actually, we'd appreciate it if you didn't let on." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Otherwise half our customers would start demanding special treatment so they don't have to queue at the guild with everyone else. None of us want to get dragged to some Hlaalu House Cousin's bedchamber so his mistress can visit without his wife knowing."

"I should probably take offence at that comment," Marayn mused. "If only it weren't accurate."

"You're my very favourite Hlaalu, don't worry." Teleportation Girl beamed at him. "I believe, I truly believe," she put a hand over her heart as though affirming her honesty, "that you'd make your mistress walk to the guild with everyone else."

Marayn snorted, then turned to me. "More to the point, Adryn, if the flexibility of the system was widely known we might have to shut down the Sadrith Mora point. We only have that under guarantee that it's fixed. It effectively is - like Masalinie said, Iniel doesn't have the sort of flexibility she or Erranil do, and none of them could get out of Wolverine Hall - but the Telvanni would undoubtedly let their paranoia stretch beyond their common sense if they knew. All in all, it's for the best to keep that information in the guild."

I swallowed the last of my scrib jelly roll and nodded. "No problem, I'll keep quiet." I did think that if they were really so keen on keeping this secret, using it every day just so the breakfast group didn't have to walk down the street to the guild wasn't exactly the best of ideas, nor was showing off to random new guild members. I decided not to point this out - Marayn was friendly, but I still didn't think he'd take particularly well to said random new guild member criticising the way things worked.

"Well, it's about time we started heading back," Marayn said. I blinked and looked around. The three of us were the only people in the room. Everyone else had apparently left while we were debating teleportation spells.

Marayn continued, "Dulnea will want to tidy the room soon, and there's undoubtedly already people beating down the doors to get to Vivec. Shall we?"

oOoOo

When we reached the guild common room, I stopped and stared for a few moments.

Occupying the table usually set aside for Marayn's book collection was the biggest bouquet I'd ever seen. Stranger yet was the fact that the flowers were native to Vvardenfell yet I recognised all of them. I recognised them because - I flushed with embarrassment at the thought - two days ago I'd spent all day trying to pick some only to be thwarted by what I was certain had to have been divine interference. Yes, those blue bells were stoneflower - I remembered trying to sneak some when I thought the evil pilgrim hadn't been looking only to discover that, like all good fiends, she had eyes in the back in her head - and the bright yellow petals were unmistakeably gold kanet, and...

Teleportation Girl had bent to inspect the bouquet and discovered a roll of parchment tied to it. Her eyes widened in surprise. "It says it's for you, Adryn!"

"It's - what?" Who on Nirn was sending me flowers? The idea of having a secret admirer was outlandish enough, but I'd been here less than a week! Surely there must have been a mistake somewhere? Or - I swallowed as a truly horrifying idea occurred to me. What if it was _Eddie?_ If anything was worse than the idea of having picked up some stranger as a stalker along the way...

"Give me that," I told the Breton shortly.

_Dear Adryn,_

_I hope you got back to Balmora all right. I'm sorry I couldn't see you back, but duty called. An Armiger's work is never done._

I gave a fervent sigh of relief. "Oh, it's just Ervesa."

"Who?"

I eyed Teleportation Girl with suspicion. Her eyes were shining in a manner I found entirely inappropriate, and I remembered Ajira's warning - not to mention the scene at breakfast.

"Oh, just someone I met on the road." No need to give someone who'd had their brain infected by romance novels ammunition.

"So," Estirdalin this time, and sounding quite a bit less enthusiastic than her younger guildmate, "why is someone you 'just met' sending you flowers?"

I looked back down at the letter.

_I hope the flowers arrive in good condition. I ended up walking to Seyda Neen, you see, and saw them by the wayside and remembered you. It's not as if it's much effort for me to pick some if I'm travelling anyway, and after what happened it's probably safest if you don't try to look for them yourself!_

"Well, they're the alchemical ingredients I was looking for. I mentioned that I'd had no luck gathering any, and since she was travelling where they grow anyway she decided to pick some on the way as a favour to me - I guess making them into a bouquet was her idea of a joke? I'll have to see if there's anything I can do for her in return, but it's not as if she's..."

"Sending you enchanted jewellery?" Galbedir this time, sounding almost offended.

"Yes, exactly! I-" Looking at Galbedir, I found my gaze arrested by the expensive amulet glimmering with magicka in her hands. "Wait, what?"

"No, really. Why, exactly, is she sending you enchanted jewellery?" Galbedir threw the amulet in my direction with more force than I felt was truly necessary - it was only thanks to my birth-sign I was able to catch it before it hit my head. Attempted murder (or at least concussion) attempts aside, I had to admit that that was a truly excellent question.

"Well..."

_There's meant to be an amulet as well, so in case it didn't arrive go complain to the Couriers Guild. That Bosmer gave it to me as a reward for rescuing his friend from the kagouti, but I think it's yours by rights. After all, you were the one who risked your life for him! And Buoyant Armigers don't accept rewards like this anyway._

I meant to give it to you right after you recovered, but with everything else that happened I'm afraid it slipped my mind completely. I hope it comes in handy - it's enchanted with a Slowfall effect, those can be very useful exploring! Although I guess you've had enough of that for a while... otherwise, you can always just sell it.

"It's nothing like you're thinking! It was a reward for rescuing someone from wild kagouti-"

"Rescuing someone? _You?_" I was impressed at how much scorn Galbedir managed to pack into one syllable. Had she ever considered a career in acting?

"So," Estirdalin interjected again, "if it was a reward for you rescuing someone else, as you say, how did this... Ervesa... get her hands on it?"

I bristled. I could hear the doubt in everyone's voices and I was growing exasperated by this interrogation. "Look, it's quite simple. Someone asked me to find his friend and I agreed because I didn't know kagouti were involved," or what a kagouti was, and how I wished I could return to such innocent times. "When I found him, we were attacked, and the spell I used to temporarily neutralise the kagouti had some... adverse side-effects. Ervesa, who was passing by, killed it. Apparently they gave her the reward for the rescue, but she sent it on to me because she thought I ought to have it, and because Buoyant Amor- Armigers," I was starting to get the hang of that name, even if it still sounded ridiculous, "have some silly vow of poverty going on or something like that. Now is everyone happy? Can I have my privacy back now?"

The silence following this was broken by a quiet groan from the alchemy corner. I looked over at Ajira and suddenly remembered that she'd warned me about-

"You were _rescued_ by a _Buoyant Armiger?!_" Oh, no. "That's so-" please don't say it, please don't say it, "_romantic!_" Teleportation Girl's voice reached a pitch that made me wince.

"Nonononono," I frantically waved my hands as if to blow away all the misunderstandings, "it wasn't like that at all, she was just being kind to a misplaced traveller, the only reason we ended up sharing a room at Desele's was because there wasn't any space in the-"

Oops.

Too late, I clamped my mouth shut.

"Girls these days," Marayn tutted, which I found rather excessive as he was only a few years older than me.

"I can't believe this." The way Galbedir clenched her fists was rather alarming, especially given she'd tried to brain me with an amulet just a minute ago. "Her? What's so special about _her?_"

"You're all misunderstanding the situation," I moaned. "Seriously, if you'd just listen to me-"

A hand fell on my shoulder. I scowled in the general direction of the perpetrator, finding I had to adjust my glare upwards when it turned out to be Estirdalin.

"My dear," her tone of voice was probably meant to be soothing. It wasn't working. "I know you grew up outside the province, and that this must be hard for you. But Morrowind is a civilised place, you see. You will not face any prejudice here, so there is no need to hide your proclivities - or your relationships - from us. Although," her voice grew stern, "you should learn that there are better places for such... activities than that-"

Desperate, I looked from face to face and decided that the only person who was going to listen to me was Ajira - and judging by the way she was covering her mouth with one paw and how her whiskers were twitching with suppressed laughter there wasn't much hope for sympathy from that quarter either.

All right. That was it. I needed to get away from these people or I'd try to kill something.

"I... need some fresh air," I mumbled, and fled up the stairs.

Upstairs, Ranis Athrys and the Argonian from breakfast were standing near the supply chest, deep in conversation. The impression I'd had of him earlier as someone with authority was borne out - she was listening to him intently, nodding once in a while. I'd never seen her treat any of us with that kind of respect.

Upset though I was, I had no wish to interrupt two high-ranking guild members - even ones who were blocking the corridor - nor to look as though I was eavesdropping. All the same, I really didn't want to go back downstairs.

Wait, didn't this building have another floor?

Indeed, there was another flight of stairs just around the corner. At the top of them I found a small, unoccupied room. Perfect, in other words, to sit for a moment and recover my temper. Why, here was a comfortable-looking chair in front of a desk... a desk with, I noted, Galbedir's mug sitting on it.

Come to think of it, I didn't see Galbedir downstairs all that often. This must be her workspace. Yes, there were a few soul gems scattered around, and here was a sheaf of paper in the same looping script as that on the mug. I peered at them more closely, but they just seemed to be her work notes. No sign of blackmail material. Luckily so - if there had been, Ajira might have been tempted, and that kind of thing never goes well.

I let myself fall into the chair with a groan, hoping Galbedir would stay downstairs for a while longer. Long enough for me to figure out how to handle this situation.

Well, first I could finish reading Ervesa's letter.

_I might pass through Balmora sometime in the next few weeks. If so, I'll have to see if I can find you so we can catch up - I enjoyed our conversation, and I think you could do with someone to help you settle into Vvardenfell. If you need to ask me anything, you can reach me by sending messages to the Armigers' Stronghold in Molag Mar - I stop by there regularly._

Your favourite giant insect,

Ervesa

Her name was followed by a doodle of Ervesa in full insect regalia, along with a stylised smiling face.

I let out a sigh.

I wanted to be angry at Ervesa, but I couldn't really. It had been a very thoughtful thing to do, and she could hardly be expected to realise everyone would go all... all... all romance novel fanatic over a few alchemical ingredients and a reward. Besides - I winced - letting the thing about Desele's slip had been entirely my fault. Maybe if she visited she'd be able to explain to Teleportation Girl and the rest that there was really, truly, nothing of that sort going on between us at all, thank you very much - even if they refused to listen to me, they must surely believe my purported partner. Until then...

Despite calming down a little, I still really didn't want to go downstairs and spend the day fending off everyone's misconceptions. Even the prospect of experimenting with the flowers didn't look pleasant with that taken into consideration. Sadly, the alternatives didn't look much better. I didn't like the idea of wandering around Balmora with nothing to do, I certainly wasn't about to venture into the wilderness again, and it wasn't as if I could just pop over to another city on a day tri-

I slapped my forehead.

Of course I could pop over to another city on a day trip. Hadn't I only just now been feeling irritated by Teleportation Girl's romance obsession? Teleportation Girl, who had that nickname because she happened to offer instantaneous transportation to numerous cities on this island? One of them was Vivec, which I vaguely remembered was meant to be the largest city on the island and boast a living god. That sounded like a good destination for a day of sight-seeing for me.

Besides, if it was that big it would surely have an enchanter's shop - somewhere I could sell that amulet. That would do something to stall the rumours, and would bring some coin to my pocket while I was at it. It looked to be worth almost two septims at a fence, meaning I might be able to talk an enchanter up to three or so since I'd acquired it legally - more than doubling my available funds and thereby staving off financial worries for a while.

And maybe I'd be able to meet the Vivec guild alchemist while I was there...

Plan made, I slipped Ervesa's letter into the pocket of my robe, thought for a moment and then fastened the amulet around my neck - it was invisible tucked under my shirt, and with the sturdy silver chain it was probably safer there than it would be in my pouch.

I stood to move back from the desk, but accidentally jolted it. The stack of Galbedir's notes spilled to the floor.

"Scamp drek," I swore. I didn't think Galbedir would take my upsetting her workspace very well and I hardly needed more hostility on that front. I hoped I could manage to put everything back the way it had been. Thankfully, burglaries are good practice on that front.

As I bent to pick up the pages littering the floor, something on the desk caught my eye. Something that must have been underneath the stack of paper. Something glowing-

All the air left my lungs in a whoosh. I felt as if someone had just punched me in the stomach.

It was a grand soul gem. A _filled_ grand soul gem, judging by the glow. And it wasn't the flickering, barely-there light of a lesser soul, either. No, this was a rich golden light that I had never seen before, not even in Svarti's Magicka, Solitude's biggest and most expensive enchanter's shop (Svarti being the one I could thank for most of my practical knowledge of magical items and soul gems, or more precisely Svarti's bad memory when it came to locking his shop's upstairs window). It must be a Daedric soul, and no scamp's either. Atronach at the very least. Perhaps even the soul of a Golden Saint.

Automatically, my mind brought up the worth of such a soul gem, then reeled at the number. It was such an astronomical sum of money that I couldn't properly imagine it. Well, I'd have plenty of time and reason to try if I just slipped the gem into my pocket - the glow would be a problem, true, but that would be easily mitigated if I wrapped it in-

Wait, stealing something of this value on impulse was a bad idea. Hadn't that been how I'd almost got caught in Seyda Neen? I should prepare, make sure I wouldn't get fingered for it - set up an alibi, make it look like a burglary, find a safe hiding place for it and a buyer. Obviously selling it here was out of the question, but head out to another city- finding a fence for such a valuable object wouldn't be the easiest thing but with my experience-

_What was I thinking?_

"No," I whispered to myself. "No, no, no." With each repetition I backed away from the desk, staring at the soul gem as if it was a wild sabre cat.

That wasn't me anymore. I was- I was _retired._ I was a mage now. It wasn't as if I'd ever really wanted to be a thief, I'd just fallen into it out of lack of other options. This was a fresh start with real chances and opportunities, and I was slowly coming to realise just how much I'd needed that. People tolerated me - no, people actually liked me! And Ajira was - time to admit it to myself - becoming a close friend. Was I going to throw that away, steal from my own guild, for the sake of-

Who was I trying to kid? A mage? Me? It'd only be a matter of time until they tossed me out on my ear. So sorry, you don't meet our standards after all. What, you actually thought you could be a proper mage? You're just a jumped-up street rat who's deluded herself into thinking she's an alchemist, useful for a while running errands but not fit to dirty our guild once that's run out.

It would happen sooner or later, what was wrong with making sure I had some insurance-

"No, no, no-"

But- but- but if I started stealing again the Guild would find me, _he'd_ find me, where was I supposed to run from here, what if he- what if _all of it happened agai-_

"No no nono_no_-"

Wood, behind me. I'd backed into the wall. No, not the wall- there was something digging into my back-

A doorknob.

I fled.

oOoOo

A brief time later found me sitting on the flat roof of the guild. I wasn't sure how I'd gotten up here exactly; I remembered bursting through the door into sunlight and cool air, but the next few minutes were a bit of a blur.

I took deep, slow breaths. In. Out. In.

Out.

It felt rather as if something had dropped chopped scamp skin into the potion of my mind, and I had to fight to keep the whole frothy mess from exploding on me.

Thankfully, I had practice. It had been a while and hadn't happened like this before, but I'd been having attacks like that all the time after-

_No._

I cast about for something safer to think about. What had been going through my mind before I'd gone to pieces like that, anyway?

Right - my sightseeing plans.

"So," I said to the air. My voice was thin. "Vivec."

"Ajira thinks that sounds like a very good idea."

I jerked, and would probably have fallen off the roof if I hadn't remembered exactly where I was at the last moment. I really was in a bad state if people could sneak up on me like that.

"Ajira apologises. She did not mean to startle friend Adryn."

"It's all right," I said. It wasn't Ajira's fault I'd been... distracted.

"It is to be understood that friend Adryn would be upset after... that." Ajira's face set into an expression of distaste, making her whiskers twitch. "It is very rude of the others to demand to know about her personal life that way. Very, very rude to jump to conclusions and ignore her telling them they are wrong. They should learn a sense of propriety." Despite myself, I almost smiled - for a moment, my friend sounded like some scandalised old aunt.

"But," Ajira continued, "that is not the only reason she is upset, is it?" Her green gaze was calm, clear and penetrating; I had to drop my own after a second. "That is all right. It is private, yes? _I_ do not dig into people's private affairs against their wishes. If friend Adryn wishes to tell Ajira, she will. If not, that is fine too."

I felt a rush of affection towards Ajira. If I weren't still feeling shaky, I'd probably have hugged her.

"You know," I said slowly, "someone should really tell Galbedir to store her belongings more securely. I mean, anyone could just- just walk in and grab things off her desk. If there was a thief around-" I couldn't continue. I swallowed, then tried again. "Some of those soul gems are-" My throat closed up. Ajira was still watching me steadily. It felt as if she could see right through me.

"Ajira agrees entirely. Galbedir is very careless about such things, and will not listen to Ajira when she says so." Ajira shook her head in disapproval. "Perhaps she will have a word with the honoured Ranis Athrys later. It will be difficult for the whole guild if something valuable is stolen. But that is not important at the moment, no? Because nothing was. There is no thief here, after all."

"Thank you." The words that escaped me were almost inaudible; I wasn't sure if Ajira could hear them.

"In any case, Ajira thinks going to Vivec is an excellent idea. Friend Adryn has been working very hard the past few days, has been a great help to the guild, even though she is only an Associate. But it is the weekend, everyone takes the time off. Ajira herself is only here to finish up some few things before going home. Friend Adryn should see more of the island, and Vivec is a grand and beautiful city. People come from afar to visit it. And," Ajira winked, "it has many, many shops, selling all sorts of things. Many other alchemists, many apocatheries, and the best bookshop in all of Tamriel."

I perked up. "Bookshop?"

Ajira grinned. "It is in the Foreign Quarter. Jobasha, the owner, if he does not have a book - this does not happen often - he will find it. Jobasha is a good friend of Ajira's, she has known him since she was very small. If friend Adryn mentions she is also a friend of Ajira's, he might not barter quite so hard."

"Ajira, have I mentioned I love you recently?" Getting me an in with the owner of a major bookshop? This was the sort of thing that called for sonnets. Sadly, my own poetic ability was at around the same level's as a giant flea's; under the circumstances, the kindest, most loving thing I could do was to refrain.

If Khajiit could blush, Ajira would undoubtedly be cherry-red by now. "Oh, no. This is only a small thing, a very small thing. And..." Ajira looked down. "Ajira must confess something."

I raised an eyebrow.

"When Ajira sends associates out on errands, she is meant to give them a reward for doing so. Friend Adryn saw, yesterday, with Jamie." I nodded; I had been wondering about that. "Usually, Ajira gives potions. But friend Adryn can make her own, so Ajira could not do that, she had to think of something else. And then friend Adryn ran the alchemy shop yesterday so Ajira could finish her report, which entitles her to a share of the profits. So-"

I stared at the five silver ten-drake coins Ajira was pressing into my hands.

"Ajira, I-"

"Ajira apologises for making friend Adryn wait," Ajira waved off my gratitude. "Although if she really wants to demonstrate her thanks, she could buy the Ascadian Isles volume of Dilavesa Seloth's _Guide to the Flora of Morrowind_ with her new money at Jobasha's. He said he would have it in stock now, and it would be useful to study the flowers on Morndas."

Of course, the flowers. With all the bustle about the amulet and then my- moment earlier, I had entirely forgotten the fact that Ajira and I now had access to yet more genuine native Vvardenfell ingredients. Quite shameful for someone who called herself an alchemist! At least Ervesa's slightly unorthodox storage method meant that they would definitely keep until then.

"I'll do that," I told Ajira. It wasn't as if it buying alchemy books was a great hardship on my part, and I figured it was the least I could do for her.

"Thank you, friend Adryn." Ajira stretched with a yawn that showed off her fangs, then glanced towards the ladder at the edge of the roof. "Although this is a very pleasant break and Ajira is enjoying it very much, she still has much work to do and needs to be getting back to it. And if friend Adryn plans to visit Vivec, she had best leave as soon as possible. Vivec is a big city, she will want much time to explore."

Ajira always gave such sensible advice. It would be positively rude not to follow it.


	7. The city of Vivec

**Warnings: **Some violence, mention of sexual harrassment

**Author's note: **I want to thank everyone who's reviewed, followed or favourited this story! I'm sorry, I'd like to respond to reviews but I'm completely crap at doing so in any sort of reasonable timeframe. :( Rest assured that your comments and support mean a lot to me.

* * *

><p>I lurched a little when I came out of the teleport, but managed to keep my feet. It helped that the platform I'd landed on was nearly identical to the one in Balmora, and so the transition was easier than the one to Suran had been.<p>

"Welcome to Vivec, the Guild of Mages hopes you did not find the trip uncomfortable and that you will enjoy your stay, please move off the platform so we can assist further travellers."

I blinked at the Imperial woman - Imperial girl, rather, she couldn't be any older than me - who'd just rattled that off in what seemed like one breath. She looked distinctly bored. I couldn't blame her.

"Thank you," I told her as I hopped off the platform as directed.

"It's what we're here for. Um... do you mind if I ask you something?"

I decided to be kind and not play the 'you just did' game. "Yes... provided it's in within reason," I added quickly. I was still feeling rather scarred by the ridiculous misunderstanding that had taken place earlier, and now that Teleportation Girl, Second Edition had ventured off-script she seemed much less like someone who'd been hit by an incompetent Calm spell and more like a person with a possible streak of mischief or, worse, love of romance novels.

"Don't worry, it's not personal. Although it is pretty strange." She sighed. "I just need to know if you're carrying any pots or pans right now."

"Pots or... " I eyed the girl with an apparent unhealthy obsession with kitchenware warily. "No. No, I am not hiding any crockery in my pockets, I promise. Er... do I even want to know why you're asking?"

"Our glorious leader, Archmage Trebonius, decided in his might and wisdom that he needed to know how many are on the island. I, being only a lowly Apprentice, am of course incapable of understanding why. Maybe there is a danger they will grow legs and start flinging fireballs at us." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm to the extent where I felt as if I could have almost held a vial under her mouth and collected some for alchemical use.

But...

"I'm a new member of the Guild and was thinking of asking for tasks here. I guess you wouldn't recommend that?"

"No. No, I wouldn't. But- wait-" she brightened. "You're a new guild member? I didn't know! What's your name, which guild are you attached to, what do you specialise in?"

"Adryn, I stay in Balmora and I work on alchemy."

"Oh, you might want to talk to Craetia, then. She's our alchemist. I'm the guild guide - well, obviously. I'm Flacassia Fauseius."

I struggled to keep my face straight.

Judging by the look Flacassia gave me, my struggle wasn't quite as successful as I might have hoped. Luckily, she just sighed. "Yes, I know, it's ridiculous. I think my father had built up so much anger because of being called Flaucius Fauseius that he took it out on his children. I even got off lightly, my younger sister's called Flasoniacria. Just call me Cassia, rea-"

In the middle of the word, she just- _stopped._ Her hands froze in the middle of a sweeping gesture, her eyes stared straight through me, her mouth hung slightly open. It was as if someone had instantly replaced her with a very lifelike wax replica.

"Cassia?" I tried cautiously. "Er, Cassia? Are you all right?" Maybe it had been a defective Calm spell earlier after all?

Then she blinked, awareness and life flooding back into her features. The whole thing reminded me of someone turning off and then turning back on some Dwemer automaton, or possibly an extremely absent-minded necromancer attempting to raise a zombie. I took a step back despite myself.

"Sorry," Cassia said, "it looks as if we'll have to cut this short because I've got four passengers coming through from Ald'ruhn-"

"Right, right, of course. I don't mean to keep you from your job."

As I wandered off, I heard the by now familiar crackle-and-pop of released magicka and displaced air, followed by Cassia's voice going "Welcome to Vivec, the Guild of Mages hopes..."

Turning the corner, I stopped and frowned. The Vivec guild was much grander than the one in Balmora. Sweeping staircases looked down on a large, vaulted, richly decorated hall. There were lush patterned carpets that looked like Elsweyr imports to me, polished marble Cyrodiilic statues, beautifully flowering plants in intricately painted pots which I happened to know were both non-native and alchemically useless... In short, the usual hallmarks of people struggling with the burden of having too much money and positively crying out to be liberated from it. I also couldn't spot any of the detritus of mages studying together in an enclosed area the Balmora guild had managed to accumulate (involving such things as precarious towers of books on the tables and floors, chalk writing on the walls from when inspiration struck and the writing-slate was simply too far away, and the occasional mug of tea or kava that had been abandoned so long ago it tried to hide behind things if you looked at it for long enough). Somehow, that lack made the hall seem empty and unwelcoming despite the lavish decoration.

No, wait - I'd just reached the bottom of the staircase, and from here I could make out the traces of scorch marks on the walls. And that bust of the Emperor had definitely had a close encounter with some sort of Destruction spell. Odd; Marayn and Estirdalin, our Destruction trainers, were always very careful not to cause any damage to the guild when teaching. Maybe the trainer here wasn't so conscientious?

I stumbled. Someone had just bumped into me from behind.

"Oh, and who might you be?"

Now, I admit I had far more experience being on the guilty end of accidental collisions, but this didn't seem entirely right. Shouldn't there be an apology in there somewhere?

I turned around ready to point that out out loud, then stopped.

The man who'd jostled me was a Breton as big and broad-shouldered as any Nord. Now, I feel the need to point out that my sense of self-preservation has never kept me from my mouthing off to people three times my size. It's usually relatively easy to lose big people by weaving through a crowd or other obstacles, and if all else fails their groins are handily in reach. The robes the man was wearing were another matter entirely. The tightly-woven cloth was a deep, uniform purple. _Alinorean_ purple, I suspected. The dye was notoriously expensive - in Solitude I'd seen it priced at eight septims an ounce. And then there were the gold buckles inlaid with gems-

I swallowed the accusation sitting on my tongue. I'd been having such a good run of luck in not making any higher-ups angry at me. It would be nice if that could continue.

"Well?" The man frowned at me. What-

Oh, right, he'd asked me a question.

"Er, Adryn. Sir," I added, suspecting some degree of buttering-up was appropriate. "I'm a new guild member. Joined in Balmora."

The man's expression cleared. "Ah, that explains it. Should have known - Ranis is so good at recruiting. Ten new members last month alone! Keep meaning to write her a commendation for that. I'm Trebonius. Archmage. Head of the guild."

Head of the guild? All right, it was _definitely_ a good thing I'd managed to keep myself from snapping at him.

"Nice to meet you. Um, sir," I added quickly. This would be a good time to suppress my natural rebellious instincts.

"It is, isn't it? Now, no worries. I'm sure I'll be able to think of something for you to do."

All the warnings I'd had about the Vivec guild suddenly came together in my mind. The picture they formed was not pretty. Cassia's pots and pans featured prominently.

I really, really had better things to do than keeping a registry of kitchenware.

"Er, no, that's perfectly all right, I'm- I'm really very busy already and-" I stammered.

Trebonius didn't look like he was going for it. "Busy? Ridiculous. Apprentices always think they're too busy, and they never are. Never do anything sensible if you leave them to it, either. Need guidance. Glad to say I'm good at providing it. Now, let me think..."

Please let me get out of this, I prayed. Let him not be able to think of anything. Be interrupted by someone who needs something urgent. Suddenly succumb to narcolepsy. Get sidetracked when the guild is invaded by rampaging kagouti. Anything.

"I have the perfect task for you!"

Apparently the universe was not in an obliging frame of mind.

I squared my shoulders, preparing to become Adryn, second-in-command of the Great Crockery Census.

"Yes, yes, just the sort of small thing to keep an apprentice occupied but too trivial for anyone of higher rank." Trebonius beamed at me. My suspiciously pot-shaped forebodings grew. "Find out what happened to the Dwemer!"

Wait.

What?

There's a children's game in Daggerfall, the sort of clapping game that is so universal Tang Mo and Sload children probably play one but where the exact words used can vary from one street to another. In the orphanage attached to the Temple of Kynareth in the capital, the first verse was:

_Tell me where the Dwemer went,  
>or the last of Falmer fell.<br>Tell me who the Elder Scrolls penned,  
>or where dragons now dwell.<em>

We called it the 'game of impossible questions.'

Is it clear what I'm getting at?

"Capital!" Trebonius had apparently taken my expression of 'I wish to know who supplied you with skooma so I can make sure they never do so again' as enthusiastic agreement. "Now that we've sorted that..."

"But, but, but," I spluttered, "no one knows what happened to the Dwemer!"

"Of course," Trebonius frowned at me. "If they did, why would I bother giving you the assignment?"

"But you just said it was trivial-"

The frown started to morph into a scowl. I inched back. Trebonius was surprisingly frightening like this. "Well, obviously if someone like myself actually sat down and thought about the problem in detail, it would be easy to solve. However, it's just not interesting enough for anyone of that intellectual calibre to have done so already."

I feel the need to point out that over the years I spent some time in the Solitude public library. Not an excessive amount, I hasten to add - certain people's comments about how one day my limbs would fall off to complete my transformation into a bookworm were a cruel and merciless exaggeration - but enough that I am still reasonably familiar with its contents. One of the things I remember quite clearly is that they had an entire bookshelf dedicated to various leading historians, archaeologists, mages, philosophers, and other scholars over the millennia trying to explain the vanishing of the Dwemer.

Trebonius apparently took my stupefied silence to be agreement, because he said, "There, you see? And now I have much more important things to do than to be chatting with apprentices. Ask Malven if you have any more questions. Making excellent progress on that tunnel to the mainland, Malven. Other guild members could learn from her." He turned around and bellowed, "Tiram! Tiram, where have you got to?"

The Archmage wandered away. I stayed standing there, too stunned to move.

"Ah," came a dry voice from my left. "I think I know that posture."

I whirled around to see an elderly Dunmer woman slowly making her way down the outside stairs.

"Tell me," I begged her, "the disappearance of the Dwemer is one of Tamriel's greatest mysteries, right? I'm not imagining things? I'm not losing my mind? Zurin Arctus himself tried to explain it, right? _Right?!_"

Most people would probably have been rather taken aback by this. She just looked resigned. "And that frame of mind. I assume you have just spoken to Archmage Trebonius."

"Yes. He gave me a task. Is it that obvious?"

"One learns to recognise the signs." The woman pinched the bridge of her nose. Whatever the Morrowind version of chopped blue mountain flower petals boiled together with crushed dragonfly wings - my favourite headache remedy - was, she looked like she needed it. "My name is Malven Romori, a Wizard in the Mages' Guild here. I strongly urge guild members to come to me if they have any problems, as Archmage Trebonius... prefers not to be disturbed with minutiae."

That had to be the most discreet rewording of "we don't know what in Oblivion we did to deserve getting saddled with this man, but we try to keep him away from innocent bystanders" I'd ever come across.

"He does like to assign duties to junior members, however. And," she fixed me with her gaze, "I would like to remind you that Archmage Trebonius is in fact the leader of this guild and is owed respect and obedience. Now if you would follow me, I can... assist you with the details of them."

I would have protested at this point - she couldn't possibly expect me to actually solve the mystery of the Dwemer - but something about her tone made me follow her quietly. Oh, and the fact that a mage with a headache was a mage more likely to start throwing around Destruction spells out of frustration. I'd learned this one from experience.

Malven led me into a room with a large table, then closed the door. "Right. Pull up a chair." She did the same herself. "Now," and her voice took on a despairing tone, "what did he ask you to do?"

"Solve the disappearance of the Dwemer," I said helpfully as I settled into a chair.

"Solve the disappearance of the Dwemer. Of course." The expression on Malven's face said that even a dose of the extra-concentrated, heavy-duty version of my headache remedy I'd made for Ingerte's migraines would not be enough right now. "Perfect job to assign to someone, that. It's not as if it's one of the greatest mysteries of our time." At least I wasn't the only one who could see how ridiculous this was. "Although it could be worse."

I blinked at her incredulously. "Worse? How?"

"Well - as I said earlier, Archmage Trebonius is the Head of Guild and hence owed obedience."

"Wait, don't tell me you actually expect me to-" Nine, please don't let Trebonius be contagious.

"What, solve the mystery of the Dwemer?" Malven snorted. "Of course, and right after that you'll find proof of the Underking's real identity. Or figure out a way to make those blasted interfering Telvanni leave us alone, I'm sure." Her tone indicated the latter was as impossible as the former. "No, what I mean is that although the task is impossible you should at least give the appearance of working on it." Her tone grew stern. "I won't have people ignoring the Archmage. It's bad for morale and undermines the dignity of the guild."

I managed to bite back the question 'even more than Trebonius does by himself?'

"And when it comes to that, the disappearance of the Dwemer isn't such a bad task. Dwemer scholarship is a thriving field, you know, so it's a good area for a new member to get involved in. Our own Edwinna in Ald'ruhn is one of the foremost experts, and always looking for interested apprentices. If you do some introductory reading - try Jobasha for books - and then ask her if you can study with her, I'm sure she'll be delighted to have you. Which means that if Archmage Trebonius asks, you can honestly tell him you are looking into it."

Put that way, solving the Dwemer question was a sight better than Cassia's pots. But... "I'm an alchemist, not a Dwemer scholar," I protested.

Malven raised an eyebrow. "Are you? Well, secondary interests are a good thing to acquire - you can't advance far in the Guild if you don't branch out - and our alchemists aren't of the academic standard Edwinna is."

I wanted to protest on Ajira's behalf, but had to remember her attempt at a formal report.

"Consider that you might instead have been asked to chain dreugh to the canton and make them tow it to a 'more reasonable climate'." Malven's long-suffering expression made me suspect that that example wasn't hypothetical. "No, a background in the Dwemer will serve you well in the future, Apprentice..."

"Adryn," I introducted myself. "And it's Associate, actually. Not Apprentice."

"Associate?" Malven blinked. "But you are involved in tasks for the guild, correct?"

"Well, I've been helping Ajira - the alchemist at the Balmora guild - with her work. Collecting and studying ingredients, selling when she was busy writing reports..."

"And you're still only an Associate? I'll have to ask Ranis what she's thinking." Malven frowned.

I shrugged. Membership in the Mages Guild was still new enough to me that I wasn't all too worried about rank. "Well-"

I was interrupted by what sounded like a small explosion from the main hall, shortly followed by Trebonius' booming voice. "Ah, not that one either! No matter, I'm certain I'll get it this time - and surely we didn't need that statue anyway!" All of a sudden, the scorch marks in the hall made a great deal of sense.

Malven's brows drew together in a scowl. I suspected fantasies of murdering a certain Archmage were going through her head.

"It looks as though I've left the others alone too long. Associate Adryn, I hope I will soon be hearing about your developing interest in Dwemer scholarship. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

After Malven had left to go repair more of Trebonius' disasters, I edged out of the room. Originally, I'd been planning to seek out the Vivec alchemist - Craetia, wasn't it? However, my experiences in the last half an hour or so had led to me formulating a new plan. This one being to get out of this guild hall as quickly as possible before I could get blown up or roped into more impossible tasks turned extracurricular activities by a certain monkey with robes and an unfortunate skill at Destruction, I mean Archmage.

I immediately set about putting it into action.

* * *

><p>Thankfully for my temper and continued health (in the form of refraining from screaming insults at my head of guild), I managed to make it out of the guild hall without further incident - unless you counted pausing for a moment on the threshold.<p>

The Vivec guild building bordered on a plaza, maybe a little larger than the square in front of the guild in Balmora. That wasn't in itself shocking, but what had given me pause was that we were still indoors. The plaza was inside a cavernous hall lit by torches and magelights. The ceiling was formed by an enormous dome, its apex so high it was hidden in darkness. I'd never seen anything like it before - whatever building we were in must be gigantic.

A brief look around turned up a building belonging to the Fighter's Guild and two armorers, but nothing that looked like a bookshop, so I followed the steady flow of people heading towards a set of massive double doors and the daylight streaming through them.

When I stepped through, I stopped and stared.

Ahead of me was a covered archway, leading onto a parapet with a low wall at its edge. A very wet parapet; the weather had apparently taken a turn for the worse since that morning. However, even through the rain I could make out a building further ahead - no, building was the wrong word. Building gave one entirely the wrong impression of the scope of the thing. I'd seen smaller castles. And - I squinted through the falling rain - there was a second to its left. Third, really, since I was quite certain I was standing in another right now. And that blurry outline back there might be a fourth-

"Stop standing in the entranceway like a slug, _n'wah._ People are trying to get by," a strangely muffled voice said from behind me.

I turned around-

Really, what was it with this country and armour that doubled as carnival gear?

The man was wearing a full set of armour that was elaborately detailed and decorated, made of some dark metal but with ornate designs worked on it in gold leaf. Like Ervesa's giant insect costume, someone had taken the concept of a 'helmet' and run with it to the point of insanity - albeit this time in a different direction. Ervesa's bug eyes and mandibles had been replaced by a stylised mask depicting a golden-skinned, rather severe-looking mer, bald save for a gigantic plume - or was that a mohawk? The mask covered the entire head, with only two small holes for the eyes. By all rights, it should have looked utterly ridiculous, yet somehow I didn't feel like laughing at all; the sight of red eyes glaring out of that immovable painted face was surprisingly intimidating.

"Deaf, too. They get worse and worse every day. Move it, outlander, or I'll move you."

Or maybe it was just the attitude.

"I'm moving, I'm moving," I said hastily. Really, he was being unreasonable - I'd been standing to the side, not directly in the doorway, and it wasn't particularly busy right now anyway. I decided to keep that idea private - even I could tell that that wasn't something one should not say to a man with a mace and a bad mood.

Instead, I took a leaf from Ajira's book: I decided to try my hand at being cute.

"I'm really sorry if I was in the way," I made my tone as sweet as possible. "I just got here from the Mages' Guild. I've never been to Vivec before and was just admiring the view. Say, I don't suppose you could help me?" I widened my eyes, remembering the sad kitten look. "I'm looking for-"

"Do I look like a tout?" the mer, who I was coming to think of as Master Grumpy, snapped. "A gondolier? A Hlaalu, maybe? Someone willing to run after _n'wah_ and scrabble in the dirt for the coppers they throw? No? Then why in the name of the holy Almsivi do you expect I'd be willing to-"

I blinked in the face of such naked hostility. All right, apparently cuteness only worked if you had fur. For dark elve- er, Dunmer (I had the sneaking suspicion that if I said the words "dark elf" around Master Grumpy, it would end in tears - mine), it seemed to be counterproductive if anything. Or maybe it was the helmet? Another one for Adryn's alchemical reaction theory of helmets: where steel caused rigid belief in honour and chivalry alongside general stupidity and giant insect armour managed to preserve intelligence but led to giggling, poetry, and sending poor unsuspecting people flowers, carnival masks caused uncontrollable rage.

"Right. Er. Sorry. Didn't mean to offend you," I managed to interject into his rant, inching backwards all the while. "I'll just be going now."

Out of lack of better options, I headed back the way I'd come.

Back in the plaza, I stopped and thought for a bit. Well, I made my way to an out-of-the-way corner first; I could still feel Master Grumpy's eyes on me, and I didn't want to do anything that could be viewed as blocking traffic.

Actually, heading back to the Mages' Guild wasn't such a bad idea, provided I managed to avoid its head. Almost everyone I'd met in the guild thus far was friendly, and therefore hopefully not as inclined to bite my head off if I asked for directions. Moreover, maybe someone could teach me that spell I'd seen Eddie using to keep himself dry. I wasn't particularly looking forward to heading out into that downpour unprotected.

Thankfully, Trebonius was nowhere near when I stuck my head around the door. Instead, an Altmer with her nose in a book was manning (merring?) the desk at the entrance. Sirilonwe, as it turned out she was called, was quite friendly despite my interrupting her reading, and very understanding of my desire to keep both eyes out for a certain Archmage. She even showed me a space behind a large, overgrown potted plant in the corner that she said was easy to flee to at a moment's notice and meant you were effectively invisible to, say, a certain senior mage who might poke their head in from the main hall. Testing this, I noted the cushion on the ground and the well-thumbed book, presumably for those occasions where Trebonius decided to stick around for a little longer.

After considering what life as a native guild member here must be like, I found myself suddenly, inordinately glad that I'd attached myself to the Balmora guild.

Once I was satisfied with the safety measures Sirilonwe taught me the "Rainshield" spell for fifteen drakes, which was less than I'd been expecting. According to her, it was such a popular spell that it had been made as simple as possible. It was definitely very easy to learn - after my experience trying to understand Almsivi Intervention I'd been worried I'd humiliate myself again, but I got the spell on my second try. Maybe I should look into Alteration spells? The only other one I knew was a water walking spell, and I thought I was quite good with it.

When I asked, she gave me directions to Jobasha's - or rather, she tried. Despite my best attempts at listening my concentration failed after she reached the sixth corner, and judging by the length of time she continued talking after that I'd probably be better served looking for it on my own. She also gave me a warning, one which would have been very useful to have heard ten minutes ago. "Be careful with the Ordinators - the guards here, the one wearing masklike helms. They don't like outlanders and they make that very obvious indeed. It's best just to keep your head down and steer clear." Master Grumpy was a guard? Who in their right minds would hire him as law enforcement? More to the point, his attitude was typical? Time to be on my very best behaviour.

I stopped myself from telling Sirilonwe I'd managed to figure the bit about Ordinators out on my own, thanked her and made my way back outside before my luck in the realm of Trebonius-avoiding ran out.

This time, I left the plaza through the other set of double doors, giving all of Master Grumpy's friends a wide berth along the way. I made my way to the end of the overhanging roof, where I closed my eyes and focused on drawing a thin stream of my magicka out of my body... out... into a shell around me... and make it _stay-_

The magicka I was holding twisted, then cut itself off from my grasp as the spell snapped into place. I opened my eyes to look at the faintly glowing purple bubble surrounding me, then took a few careful steps out from under the roof.

Water hissed against my shield, each drop launching a ferocious attack with all its power only to beat fruitlessly against the spell and finally drip to the ground in ignominous defeat. I grinned. I was Adryn, vanquisher of rain! No mere jumped-up mist could defeat me! No spell was too difficult to learn! No weather, no carnival escapee guards, nothing could keep me from Jobasha's now!

I set off into the rain.

* * *

><p>Some time later found me leaning against a wall in one of the so-called "Waistworks" with sore feet, mostly depleted magicka reserves, and decidedly lower spirits. Apparently, although no spell nor weather nor guards could defeat me, my own sense of direction (or rather, the lack thereof) was more than up to the task - especially combined with what I could only refer to as architectural sadism on the part of whoever had designed this place.<p>

The building, or rather 'canton', we were in had several floors. The topmost was the plaza I'd already been in, all the others were a warren of narrow corridors and arched wooden doors hiding shops and housing. Everything was kept scrupulously clean, which also meant all of it looked exactly alike. Well, they could probably afford to pay an army of cleaners - they must save a fortune on vermin extermination. I imagined any rat that found its way here would immediately turn tail and run, squeaking the rodent equivalent of "too confusing! I'm going home!" all the while. The fact that people voluntarily lived here just goes to show that we can be remarkably stupid sometimes.

To make matters worse (_why?_ They were bad enough already!), the floors were connected via a bewildering maze of stairs, ramps and the occasional ladder, half of which went outside for - as far as I could tell - the sole purpose of making certain the unfortunate newcomer spent as much time either getting drenched or expending their magicka to keep from getting drenched as possible. If people in Solitude built this way, half the city would freeze to death in the winter!

I'd spent the last few hours repeatedly casting my rainshield spell as I wandered in circles, somehow finding myself more rather than less lost every time I ended up somewhere I'd already been. The only break I'd had came when I spotted a sign for an apocethary and promptly wandered in.

I'd ended up having a nice chat with Aurane Frernis, the owner. Although she was a Breton, she'd been born on Vvardenfell and didn't know much about ingredients from elsewhere other than the few that were imported. We worked out something of an information trade on that basis (one where I thought I'd come off better, since I doubted Aurane would have occasion to use Nordic barnacles anytime soon). Her shop seemed to be having a slow day, so I managed to pick up quite a few useful tidbits without interruption.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. In this case, the end had come while Aurane was talking about golden kanet. Thinking of the bouquet awaiting me back in the guild, I'd asked her to refrain from telling me about its alchemical uses - Ajira and I were looking forward to finding those out on our own, after all - but she knew a lot about where to find it.

"...grows widely in the Ascadian Isles and parts of Azura's Coast, but I prefer to get mine from the Sheogorad islands - they make for slightly stronger potions. That said, the varieties of gold kanet in the Ascadian Isles are quite heterogenous, and it's quite possible some of them are just as potent. There's one that grows near Bal Ur, called 'Roland's Tear', which I've been meaning to test for absolutely ages... come to think of it!" She brightened. I didn't. I had a horrible suspicion as to where this was going. "You could go collect some for me. It's really not very far from Vivec, I'd go if I could leave the shop alone that long. I'd reward you well."

For once, even the word "reward" didn't make me even remotely inclined to agree. Any possible daydreams of fat purses were ruthlessly strangled out of existence by the horrible memories of exactly what had happened the last time I'd gone on a harmless, easy trip to collect some gold kanet.

"No!" I yelped.

Noticing Aurane's unimpressed stare, I quickly followed that up with, "I mean, I would, but it's really far too dangerous and-"

"Oh, pish," Aurane waved her hand dismissively. I scowled at the gesture. Clearly, this was someone who had no idea of the horrors flower-picking entailed. "It's harmless. The flowers grow well away from the Daedric ruin, and people say the Dremora hardly ever stray from that-"

Daedric ruin?

_Dremora?_

Needless to say, at that point I'd quickly manufactured an urgent appointment I had to get to - so sorry, entirely forgot, absolutely no time to go battle Dremora for the sake of alchemical research today, perhaps you should inquire at the Fighter's Guild instead? And a few minutes later - and ever since - I'd been back in the corridors, the endless maze, the quite possibly a plane of Oblivion I'd accidentally wandered into (it _would_ explain the Dremora.)

"-I feel sorry for him, but Shor knows it was impossible to make a decision in that environment-" That accent was decidedly familiar. I looked up.

Two Nord women were moving along the corridor at a brisk pace. A few hours ago, back when I was still young and innocent, I might have tried to follow them in the hopes of them going somewhere useful. Now, however, I knew better. Apparently all the natives could walk through walls. At least, this was the only explanation I had for the amount of times I'd tried to tag along with someone only to be standing alone in an empty corridor. Or there'd been the time outside where the mer had headed straight for the parapet and then levitated up to the next level, leaving me gaping behind.

(Technically, I supposed, I could do the same for getting to the lower levels with my amulet. However, I hadn't reached the point of throwing myself off high places with only an untested magical artifact of dubious provenance between me and certain death. Not yet, at any rate.)

"Well, don't worry," the taller one was saying. "There are other enchanters. One wouldn't want to go to the Telvanni canton, true, but the Temple or the-"

Wait, there was an enchanter around here? Speaking of untested magical artifacts of dubious provenance, in particular the turning of such into shiny coins...

"Excuse me, did you say there's an enchanter's shop nearby?" I asked.

The one who'd just been speaking stopped, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Why, yes. It's-" I braced myself for a long list of bewildering directions culminating in 'walk through the nearest wall'- "just down this corridor. Go past this corner and then head straight, you can't miss it."

"Really? Thanks so much!" I beamed at the first comprehensible directions I'd heard all day.

"But wait, there's-" I was too busy rushing down the corridor to make out the rest.

Indeed, a bit further along there was the same sort of sign made out of cloth I'd seen outside all the shops here hanging against a wall, with a symbol denoting what it sold along with the same spelled out in Daedric letters. I couldn't see what was on it, however, as a Breton had decided this was the perfect spot to lean against and take a break.

Well, he wasn't an Ordinator, and the Nords had been friendly enough...

"Excuse me, is this the enchanter's?"

The Breton leapt away from the wall with alacrity. "Fair lady! Flower of Morrowind!" He swept into an extravagant bow that put me dreadfully in mind of Eddie. On the bright side, it meant I could finally see what was on the sign - yes, written below a symbol I didn't recognise was 'Miun-Gei, accredited enchanter. Will buy and sell enchanted items and scrolls, custom work available'. Someone had pinned a piece of parchment next to that. It read, 'Soul gems not supplied. Customers must bring filled soul gem for commissions. No exceptions.'

"Can you find it in your generous heart to spare a coin for a struggling actor?" The Breton finally came out of his bow, cap in hand. I groaned at the sight. It must have been on the ground in front of him - if I'd spotted it, I would have tried to sneak past.

"No," I answered him flatly.

He gasped dramatically, clutching the front of his shirt. "Ai! You wound me, fair maiden! Those harsh words - like a dagger through my heart! Yet I am sure that buried beneath such a stern countenance lies a gentle soul-"

Yes, this was definitely Eddie the Second. Except this time I found myself sadly devoid of allies, scout and silt-strider alike.

"-as fair and kind as Inzoliah, and I her most devoted servant Malvasian-"

Wait a minute.

"Inzoliah and Malvasian? Didn't they try to kill each other over money?"

The man's eyes lit up. "Ah! A connoisseur! A patron of the fine arts!"

Did he just say _patron of the fine arts_? If knowing basic character and plot details of one of Tamriel's most popular plays counted as such, the state of theatre must be much worse than I'd thought.

"No, I just haven't been living under a rock," I snapped.

Not-Eddie ignored me. "Surely one so cultured, so sophisticated as you will be able to understand my artistic vision! Theatre troupes throughout Tamriel perform _A Hypothetical Treachery_ as a black comedy. Pah, I say to that! That idea is bland as barley soup, outdated as the plays of Baloth-Kul. What if one were to perform it as a tragic romance - Inzoliah and Malvasian the star-crossed lovers, kept apart by cruel fate! I am sure it would receive great acclaim..." His shoulders slumped. "If only I could find a troupe willing to attempt it..."

He appeared quite distracted with his misfortuntes. I approved. It gave me the chance to make an unnoticed escape into the enchanter's shop.

* * *

><p>I shut the door behind me with a sigh of relief at having a barrier of solid wood between me and Eddie the Younger, then looked around.<p>

The small room was crammed. Next to stacked crates were shelves which were laden with all sorts of objects, from a long spear to a child's tunic to a stack of scrolls in one corner. The one thing they had in common was that they all gleamed with magic. The light combined with that of the numerous magical lamps of all shapes and colours to make me squint and wonder whether migraines were an occupational hazard for enchanters.

If they were, it might explain this enchanter's appearance. Behind a wooden desk stood an Argonian who looked distinctly frazzled. I should admit at this point that I didn't know many Argonians and their body language was notoriously different from that of the warm-blooded races, so that estimation should probably be taken with a grain of salt. All the same, I'd never seen one with such a drooping head-frill before, and I guessed the fact that his scales were pearly blue on most of his body meant that the ones on his face should not be that unhealthy-looking pale grey colour. To say nothing of the way his beard-tendrils kept curling and uncurling.

"Er, hello?" I tried.

He jumped and stared at me for a moment, then collected himself. "A customer! My apologies, my apologies. I am Miun-Gei, enchanter. My specialisation lies in magical lighting," well, that explained the headache-inducing surroundings, "but I have a large variety of items available in other areas as well. What brings you to my shop?"

"I'd like to sell this amulet," I said, undoing the clasp at the back of my neck and handing it to him.

"Ah! Give it here- yes, yes-" Miun-Gei lifted the amulet up and inspected it closely. "A Slowfall enchantment, yes? Nicely done, anchored tightly into the stone - emerald, a good choice for such work. Now, as for the faceting-" He hummed slightly, reaching for a magnifying lens on the desk. I had to smile when I realised that his frill was perking up as he talked - talked to himself, really; he seemed to have entirely forgotten I was there in his enthusiasm.

"O noble sir! Spare a coin for a struggling actor?"

Eddie II's voice barreled through the door and shattered the companionable atmosphere like an angry kagouti. Miun-Gei dropped the lens, which fell back onto the desk with a loud clunk.

"Oh, curse that buffoon," he muttered, one hand reaching up to tug repeatedly at one of his head-spikes as if for comfort. Then he shot a glance at me and let the hand fall. "Many apologies, honoured customer. Please do not mind these- minor interruptions-"

"Don't worry, I tangled with that man on the way in," I said sympathetically. "Take your time."

"Take your time, yes..." Miun-Gei repeated absently, attention once more fixed on the necklace. "A Slowfall enchantment. Quite strong, with a very large reservoir of magicka - no rat's or nix-hound's soul went into the making of this. Dreugh, perhaps? Or a scamp? Let us see..."

He muttered several arcane-sounding syllables, causing sparkling white light to grow around his free hand as I watched in fascination. I'd known that there was a spell which enchanters used to discern the exact details of an enchanted item, but this was the first time I'd ever seen it in action.

"_They say/ the Iliac Bay/ is the place to barrel around/ without a bit of apparel on-_"

Sweet Stendarr's mercy, now the man was singing.

The spell fizzled with a pop. For a moment, the spines of Miun-Gei's frill shifted forward into what I recognised as a threat position, his lips peeling back to reveal a row of very sharp teeth as he hissed. Then he relaxed with what looked like a major effort of will.

"No matter, no matter! Miun-Gei shall try again!"

Miun-Gei closed his eyes in concentration, cupping the amulet in one hand-

I cringed, instinctively raising my hands to cover my ears, as the unmistakeable sound of a shawm penetrated the door. A _badly-played_ shawm, at that. I hadn't spotted the instrument among the actor's possessions on my way in. I'd have to see if I could when I left, because I was relatively certain that using my Firebite spell on it would qualify as a civic duty.

Miun-Gei stood still as a statue for a moment as his second spell fizzled. Then he let the amulet fall onto the desk and dropped his head in his hands. I'd heard that Argonians lacked tear ducts and couldn't cry, but judging by the sounds he was making they could at least manage a very good impression.

"Um," I said hesitantly. "Are you all right?" I'd known people who could work through the sound of a Nord wedding, but I'd always been the opposite - noise my friends could happily ignore left me flinching and covering my ears. It looked as though Miun-Gei was the same.

"No," Miun-Gei said, voice muffled. "Miun-Gei is not all right. Miun-Gei has not been able to make a single sale since yesterday because of that, that _buffoon_. It decided in front of Miun-Gei's shop is the perfect place to set up and 'show off' her 'acting skills'. And now Miun-Gei cannot focus long enough to inspect new items, to give customers an overview of its wares, to barter."

I took a moment to parse that speech. Apparently Miun-Gei had the ever-so-slightly idiosyncratic approach to gendered pronouns that you sometimes heard among his race, the one that made me seriously wonder about the Argonian life-cycle.

"Have you tried talking to law enforcement?" I suggested, trying to take my mind off certain possibilities involving egg-laying which I really didn't want to think about in too much detail.

"The Ordinators? They came and said it was a 'permissible' level of noise." Miun-Gei sounded gloomy. "I am not certain whether they allowed it because Miun-Gei is an outlander and they do not care about outlanders, or because the noise is really not that bad. Miun-Gei is... it overreacts, sometimes." That last was said in a sing-song tone that made me think the Argonian was repeating something he'd been told. I felt a sudden burst of sympathy.

Miun-Gei raised his head, although he didn't meet my eyes. "Many apologies, honoured customer. One way or the other Miun-Gei will not be able to trade today, she fears."

"I understand," I said. "It really sounds as if you need to take a break - somewhere _quiet_ - for a bit. Is there anything I can do to help?"

I snapped my mouth shut, but the traitorous words had already escaped. See, this is what happens when you indulge in sympathy for other people - outbreaks of altruism. Worse, Miun-Gei was visibly brightening. Apparently he had something in mind and hadn't noticed my recoil.

"The buffoon is looking for work in theatre, he says. He believes besieging my shop will find it a troupe. Thus, if an employer is found, it will leave and Miun-Gei will be able to do business again. Miun-Gei would be very, very grateful if the honoured customer looked for someone who wishes to hire an actor. If this succeeds and the buffoon leaves, there would be a reward."

Well, that wasn't as bad as I'd been expecting. The magical word "reward" had been spoken - although I really did plan not to let that override my common sense again - and it wasn't as if asking around would be difficult. Except... "I'd love to help, really," I said, exaggerating somewhat, "but I'm getting lost every time I turn around. I can't find anything, let alone someone hiring actors, in this maze you call a city."

"Oh, of course, you are new here." Miun-Gei winced as the shawm struck a particularly flat note, then continued gamely. "Miun-Gei has not lived here that long either, but he learned an easy trick for getting around. It is this: when you need to go up or down a level, use the ramps on the outside of the cantons. Only go inside to search once you are on the right level. It is much less confusing that way."

I blinked. With the rain, I'd tried to stay inside as much as possible. I hadn't considered that this might be adding to my difficulties.

"Thank you! I'll-"

A particularly loud blast of 'music' from outside had both of us cringing. Miun-Gei gave the door a desperate look. I decided that curtailing the usual farewell pleasantries was allowable in certain situations and this was definitely one of them.

A short time later, I'd managed to shake off Eddie's long-lost twin again and stood outside. Although the clouds still hung thick and grey overhead, the rain had finally stopped - luckily so, as I wasn't feeling up to casting the rainshield spell many more times. My magicka reserves were feeling rather low, and the last few hours had been so full of stress, more stress, and running around that the rate at which I was recovering magicka could be more accurately summed up as 'not'.

Ingerte's face swam into my mind. She'd always said that she really didn't care if I hated my birthsign, trying to make myself into an Atronach-born by stunting my magicka regeneration through stress wasn't the answer-

My stomach growled, providing a very useful distraction. I looked down at it ruefully. Apparently I needed to find a nice quiet place to take a break for more reasons than refilling my magicka pool.

I just hoped that Miun-Gei's advice worked, or else I'd probably end up starving to death in the maze of corridors and having my corpse spat upon by Ordinators.

* * *

><p>Miun-Gei's advice worked.<p>

The outside of the canton was far, far less confusing than the inside. The main issue was that the ramps to get from level to level were well-hidden indeed - it took quite a bit of me circling around in confusion before a stray draft caught my attention. But after that, navigating the canton became much easier and in what felt like no time at all I'd reached the bottom level.

In front of me was a broad marble bridge, leading to the next canton - one that looked very, very similar to the one I'd just exited, with perhaps one less level and more decoration in the form of hanging red flags depicting some sort of stylised insect. To the side, there was a rickety wooden platform with stairs leading down to the water. Wandering over, I saw a small dock and a ladder leading down to a maze of wobbly rope bridges and rickety boardwalks which connected the cantons with wooden platforms and anchored boats of all shapes and sizes.

I looked down at the web of pathways spanning across the water, then looked up at the other canton.

There really was no decision to make. At least in one of the labyrinths, I'd be able to see the rest of it.

A while later found me glad for the choice, because I was making actual progress for once. Although I had to admit that the upkeep of the paths was not always what it should be. My birthsign and its gift of agility came in handy more than once when I had to bridge gaps or climb up to a platform, and on occasion I even found myself having to reach into the last remnants of my magicka pool for my water-walking spell - one I try to avoid using if I can. Standing on waves makes me queasy, and Alteration spells like that have a tendency to suddenly wear off when you're not expecting it.

(Not, I feel the need to point out, that I'd know from experience. There was never an incident where I was showing off my new knowledge and forgot to keep track of the spell, and it definitely did not end with me falling straight into the river and Fjaldir needing to fish me out. And he most certainly was not laughing the entire time.)

Even with the poor maintenance, I was by far not the only one who'd decided to brave the water rather than the cantons. And overall the others seemed more... well, my sort. Less people wearing fancy robes, more in plain clothes suitable for an honest (or dishonest) day's work. The snatches of conversation I overheard had less to do with the price of enchanted items and more with the price of bread or the day's fishing... along with rumours of some sort of serial killer having struck in the Arena canton, a place I immediately decided to avoid. At one point I even snagged the wrist of a young Dunmer girl, the hand it belonged to being on my purse at the time. I let her go with an admonition and a few tips on pickpocketing technique, which I told her to go try out on people who weren't me.

(To paraphrase a well-known saying: give a street kid a drake and she'll be hungry again in... actually, she'll never stop being hungry. Teach a street kid to steal and she can get her own drakes - and get them from purses fat enough that their owners really ought to be donating to soup kitchens anyway, for that matter. Everyone wins!)

There were a lot of Dunmer around, a fact that first surprised me, then followed that up by surprising me through having surprised me (an underhanded move I felt should be made illegal in the art of cogitation). After all, I was in Morrowind. I was even beginning to get used to that fact. Seeing a crowd mainly of my race shouldn't be so shocking. But...

Thinking back, so far almost everywhere I'd been had been dominated by other races. I still remembered realising that little Llavani was the first Dunmer I'd seen after having spent several hours in Seyda Neen. In fact, the only other I'd met in my whole time there had been Darvame. Less than half of the Balmora mages were Dunmer, even if you counted me - and if what I'd seen at breakfast and at the Vivec guild was any sample, then that proportion was if anything even smaller in other guilds. From what I remembered, the crowds in Balmora had been similarly diverse... the ones in the canton I'd exited earlier definitely had been. Yet here, at least four people in five were Dunmer.

As if to emphasise my discovery, I heard a language I didn't recognise showing up in conversations around me. It must be Dunmeris, which I'd read was still widely spoken in Morrowind. But if it was so widely spoken, why was this my first time hearing it?

I really should get around to reading up on local politics. I had the sneaking suspicion that they were important.

My stomach growled again.

All right, there were a few things that were more important.

When I reached a Redguard street vendor, I immediately spent a few drakes on roast slaughterfish and greens wrapped in flatbread and garnished with a spiced lemon sauce. It was delicious - the sauce was flavourful without being overwhelming, the fish was tender and juicy and the greens gave a very satisfying crunch when I bit into them. Never to mention that the taste of someone attempting to approximate northern Hammerfell cuisine with totally unsuitable ingredients was quite nostalgic, although I had to admit this man was doing a rather better job than Charon (whose many attempts at a barley-based couscous substitute are not among my happiest culinary memories).

I asked the vendor about his recipes and spent most of my lunch being regaled with talk about the Sentinel-Morrowind trade lines and how a good friend of his outside Almalexia on the mainland was having some success growing citrus trees. When I was finishing, the conversation had just turned to his disgust for a local tavern's kitchen practices ("they'll keep slaughterfish magically frozen for _months_ before they finally serve it! Me, I have a deal with some of the local fisherfolk down near St. Olms', I swear to Zenithar everything I sell is fresh out of the sea-"). After I gulped down the last of the food, I managed to interrupt with another question.

"A theatre troupe?" he asked, frowning. "You an actor?"

I shook my head. "I'm looking for... someone else, as a favour." I decided not to go into detail. It wasn't really important, and poor Miun-Gei didn't need his misfortune trumpeted around the city.

"Well, in that case - I've heard Crassius Curio is looking for actors to perform one of his new plays. He's up in Curio Manor, in Hlaalu canton."

I found myself torn. On the one hand - that was a lot easier than I'd expected. On the other... _in Hlaalu canton_. I'd just escaped the hell that was trying to navigate a canton, I was not at all eager to go back.

"How hard is it to find?" I asked warily.

"How h- oh, of course, you're a newcomer. Not hard. Curio Manor is on the plaza at the very top, the open part. You can almost see it from here, actually."

I craned my neck and stared in the direction he indicated. Indeed, unlike the canton I'd spent my morning in, the one he was pointing at had no dome at its top - it might very well be open to the sky, I couldn't tell from my perspective. It looked very similar to the first canton in all other respects, so Miun-Gei's advice should still work...

Although really, it couldn't be much past noon. There was plenty of time to go sight-seeing first, surely?

I was still trying to gather the willpower I needed to voluntarily set foot in a canton again when a raindrop hit my nose. Next to me, the Redguard groaned and retreated underneath an awning. Apparently the weather's compassion had grown thin.

Curio Manor it was, then.

* * *

><p>The guards stationed at the manor door snickered as I left. I tried to glare them into submission. It would probably have worked better if my face hadn't been burning.<p>

One last wave of chuckles came when I stumbled over the doorsill and almost fell. Poor showing for someone with my birthsign, but it's hard to watch where you're going when you're busy fleeing a place as if the hordes of Oblivion are on your heels.

At this point most people would say that comparing a relatively short, chubby Imperial to a Daedric army might be unfair. And indeed, it probably was - to the Daedra. I'd heard Ogrim, for instance, were supposed to be quite straightforward creatures. They wanted to crush you to goo, and they went about that in a clear, honest way (by attempting to crush you to goo). They did not pinch you (except as it pertained to crushing you to goo) and definitely did not pinch a body part where the only thing I wanted to touch it was the seat of a chair.

And, of course, no Daedra had ever called me...

"Dumpling. _Dumpling._ I'll dumpling him! He'll wish he'd never even heard of dough when I'm through with him. He'll be petrified by pots. Cry when he sees a cook. Hide under the settee at the swing of a spatula-"

I noticed people were giving me wary looks and a wide berth, a fact that might have to do with the way I was muttering angrily to myself while clenching my fists. Moreover, several Ordinators were standing off to one side watching me. The sight of so many of those blank masks turned in my direction served to cool the worst of my rage.

I leaned against a wall and took stock of my situation.

On the Aedra's side, I'd accomplished what I came for. Crassius Curio had apparently spent some time and effort trying to put a theatre troupe together. When I'd told him about an actor looking for work and given him the leaflet, he'd sent someone out to collect the man straight away. Quite frankly, I wasn't sure if I should be happy because they deserved each other or afraid that they'd end up making each other even worse, but in any case Eddie's magically-created offspring (what woman would go near him?) was now out of Miun-Gei's spikes.

On the Daedra's, after Curio had sent his servant out, there had been... remarks. Suggestions. Gestures. Nicknames. _Pinches._ All of which I was going to erase from my mind as contaminants right around... now.

So really, this had been a roaring success, bar certain incidents I seemed to have come down with a strange case of amnesia about. I should head back to Miun-Gei's and collect my reward. The rest of it, really, since Curio had already given me a thin book during the course of a conversation I'd mysteriously forgotten the details of. I'd been starved for reading material of late, I wasn't going to turn down...

What sort of a title was _The Lusty Argonian Maid_?

I cracked it open for a skim-

Oh.

Horrible memories of That Night In Suran danced, cackling, in my mind.

You know, there were people who would appreciate this... work of art far more than I would. Places, too. The sea outside came to mind. Or possibly the sewers. It would be positively selfish of me to keep it from them. Of course, it was a hard decision - there were also numerous possibilities involving privies...

First, though, Miun-Gei's.

A thought went through my mind, one where I was sure I hadn't the slightest idea what spurred it:

_The reward for this one had_ better _be good._

* * *

><p>I blinked at the sign in front of me, pondering the universe. In particular, its sense of irony in the way you only find what you're looking for once you've stopped actually looking.<p>

In between being told to solve one of the greatest mysteries of Tamriel, raising the art of getting lost to towering new heights, hunting for theatre troupes, and finally getting accosted by pinching nobles with a penchant for pastry-based namecalling, I'd entirely forgotten the reason I'd originally come to Vivec. After finishing up with Miun-Gei, I'd planned to head back to Balmora straight away.

Alas, his tips for navigating cantons didn't help much with the interior. I hadn't managed to find his shop again. Instead, I'd wound up here.

I looked at the sign again. There it was: _Jobasha's Rare Books._

I shrugged. If the universe wanted to help me out for once, I wasn't going to complain.

Down a flight of stairs, I found myself confronted by bookshelves. Jobasha was likely behind them, I should go and ask him-

He had a complete set of _The Real Barenziah!_ The Solitude library had been missing the fifth volume, and I'd been very bitter about never finding out how the story ended. And - was that a biography of Pelagius the Mad? It would be interesting to know more about the emperor who gave rise to the holiday I'd loved when I was living in Daggerfall. And over there, a book on Akavir!

"Jobasha wonders if the Dunmer is interested in buying anything?"

I straightened guiltily from where I was perusing the books. "I'm sorry, I got sidetracked. Yes, I'm looking for..." I fished the scrap of paper I'd used as a list out of my pocket. "The Ascadian Isles volume of Dilavesa Seloth's _Guide to the Flora of Morrowind, Saryoni's Sermons, Cantatas of Vivec, Doors of the Spirit_, and..." I remembered the incident in the Mages' Guild this morning. "Do you have any introductory texts on the Dwemer?"

"Yes, yes," Jobasha said from behind a bookshelf. He'd started running around fetching books when I listed the first title. "Two suitable for a beginning student, Jobasha thinks. _Antecedents of Dwemer Law_, it is about the Dwemer legal system and how one can trace it to the Aldmer. Very accessibly written, with a lot of remarks about general Dwemer culture. _Ruins of Kemel-Ze_, that is different - it is a report by an archaeologist, on the excavation of a Dwemer ruin. Not a scholarly text by any means, but the descriptions are very detailed, good to get an overview, and of some... historical interest. Jobasha thinks it could be quite... illuminating." Jobasha seemed on the verge of saying something else, then changed the subject. "You are studying the Dwemer?"

"What? Oh - yes, I'm a new member of the Mages' Guild. An alchemist, really, but some of the higher-ups thought it would be a good idea for me to, ah, learn about the Dwemer as well. My name is Adryn," I introduced myself.

"So you are Adryn. I see. I see." Jobasha's whiskers twitched.

My hackles rose. "You've heard of me?" How and why could he have heard of me? I had trouble thinking of any reason that would end well-

"It is quite simple. Jobasha had a very good friend, one who was so close she could have been his sister. When she died some years ago, Jobasha grieved very much and promised her spirit he would look after the daughters she left behind." Jobasha sighed. "He has not always done so well at that as he would like, but he does try to look in on Ajira when he can. The last time he did so was Turdas, when he had some business with Dorisa Darvel in Balmora. Ajira was full of news of her new friend Adryn, who had helped her with her experiments the day before and was gathering ingredients for her just then."

All right. That worked.

I relaxed. "I forgot - Ajira mentioned you. Yes, she's a good friend of mine."

"Jobasha is pleased to hear that," Jobasha said. "He is of the opinion that Ajira could use more friends. She disagrees, but - kits. They always think they're already grown and don't need anyone's help."

If Ajira wasn't my age, she couldn't be more than a year or two younger - hardly what I would call a 'kit'. I suspected trying to argue the point would only get me put into that category with her, though, and forced myself to remain diplomatically silent with an effort of will.

After a moment, Jobasha turned back to the books. "Will that be all, or are you interested in anything else?"

I looked at the stack on the table. After a brief but vicious internal struggle (I lost), I added the fifth volume of _The Real Barenziah_ to it. The resulting pile looked slightly higher than I could really afford. Following some perusal and hard thought, I removed _Cantatas of Vivec_ - it seemed interesting, but epic poetry was not entirely to my taste and the other two books Ervesa had recommended looked more useful as introductions to the local religion.

"And the book under your arm?" Jobasha inquired.

I blushed. I'd entirely forgotten that I was still lugging Curio's magnum opus around with me.

"It's not yours - it's, er, I encountered Crassius Curio earlier today and he gave it to me-" I found myself eager to disavow responsibility.

"May I see?"

"Quite frankly," I said, passing it to him, "you can have it. Although I'm not sure you'd want to."

Jobasha leafed through it. His face betrayed nothing, a fact that already made him a better actor than Eddie's cousin. "Yes, yes - definitely Curio's work. The man is well-known as an amateur writer, quite an... enthusiastic one. Well, there are some interested."

"Seriously?" I asked, then bit my lip. Although I think of it as a perfectly sensible question, asking things like this often nets me any number of unpleasant reactions, from disbelief to ridicule and outright mockery. Worst, I think, are the ones who dismiss me by telling me I'll understand eventually - as though I, a grown adult, am a child to be patted on the head and told 'when you're older, sweetie'!

Luckily, Jobasha took it in stride. "Quite. Jobasha has a section set aside specifically for such works." He nodded to a bookshelf in the corner, set somewhat apart from the others. "In fact, I have the uncensored version of _The Real Barenziah_ available there, if you- no? Very well. In any case, I will happily take the script to make up a portion of the price."

His eyes roved over the stack of books on the counter, then over me. I straightened and tried to look like an tough, hard-bitten bartering veteran, someone who would haggle a highwayman down to 'a quarter of your money or a nonlethal wound in a limb of your choice!'

"That will be one septim and eighty drakes in total."

I gulped.

In the end, I argued him down to a septim and a half. I felt more than a twinge of reluctance when I passed him all the money Ajira had given me along with one large gold septim coin from my pouch. Silently, I cursed my literary addiction, in particular how it had led to me spending almost half the money I had on books. I needed to find some sort of regular income - maybe I could strike a deal with Ajira? I hadn't exactly enjoyed selling potions (understatement), but it was better than ending up destitute.

This made it even more important to find Miun-Gei's. Even if the reward ended up only being copious thanks, if I sold that amulet I should still be able to end the day with more money than I'd started it with.

Wait, Jobasha was getting something from one of the bookshelves behind his desk.

"And of course, there is this. A chronicle of events at a Dwemer settlement in the First Age - this edition was translated from Aldmeris into Tamrielic in the early years of the Third Era."

I looked at the thick book Jobasha laid on the desk. In particular, I looked at the aged, cracked leather of the cover and the flaking gold-leaf letters inlaid in it which spelled out "Chronicles of Nchuleft". It reminded me of some of the books I'd seen in the Solitude library - seen, not read, because those were the books the senior librarian refused to let you within a ten-foot distance of without a letter from someone like the Archmage of the Skyrim Mages' Guild attesting that you were both desperately in need of consulting them and would treat them like they were made of glass (and not the volcanic kind). Alas, she'd been very good at spotting forgeries.

"That looks a little out of my price range," I admitted. I suspected it would've been so even if I hadn't spent a drake since arriving on Vvardenfell.

"Oh, Jobasha is expecting it is," Jobasha said while carefully wrapping it in an oiled cloth. "Even you could afford it, he would not sell it. Edwinna Elbert of Ald'ruhn asked him to find it for her, has already paid him handsomely for it. The shipment just came in yesterday, and now Jobasha needs someone to deliver it to the Ald'ruhn Mages' Guild for him. You are a member of the guild, you know how to treat books - you would not believe the clumsy oafs Jobasha has had the misfortune to hire for such work in the past-" Jobasha shuddered, I assumed at a dreadful memory involving book destruction. "Edwinna should give you a few drakes for the delivery. And if you are careful with it and the book gets to Edwinna by Tirdas at the latest, Jobasha will not object if you do some reading of your own."

That was a generous offer. Too generous. How did Jobasha trust me not to run off with it? Ajira's assessment could only go so far. Especially because much as we'd been instant friends, at the time she'd told Jobasha about me we'd known each other for less than a day.

"You'd trust me with a book that valuable?" I blurted, then mentally kicked myself. When would I learn that certain thoughts were best kept to oneself?

Jobasha looked at me without answering, green eyes distant. The silence stretched until I started to shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze.

"Jobasha was not entirely honest with you at the beginning," he finally said. "He has heard of you from Ajira, yes. But he has also heard of you elsewhere. Jobasha has friends in many places, you see, and one of them is in the Thieves' Guild."

My blood turned to ice.

"And those friends, they tell him things. They tell him things like this: the one who calls himself the Thief-King of Skyrim, he is looking for someone. He is looking for a young Dunmer, a red-haired girl named Adryn."

The door was behind me, and I'd have to weave past bookshelves and run up stairs to get to it. The desk was between us, which was a point in my favour, but Jobasha looked fit for all his greying fur and Khajiit were notoriously acrobatic... and then there was me, still out of shape from prison. If I bolted, I didn't think I'd make it outside before he caught me.

Not that it mattered either way, because he had _friends_ in the Thieves' Guild and he _knew who I was_-

"He wants her alive, it is said... but from the way he is asking, once he has her this girl will not remain so for very long. From the way he is asking, she will wish it was not even that long."

Despite the warmth of the day, I felt very cold.

Jobasha regarded me for a long moment, claws drumming on the table, then heaved a sigh. "Breathe. The things Jobasha has heard about the Thief-King are... not good. He is not inclined to do that man a favour. And," his tone hardened, "I disapprove of torturing children."

Apparently I'd ended up in the 'kit' category after all. This was probably not the time to protest that my nineteen years made me an adult.

"I- _thank_ you-" I felt light-headed and stopped to take a deep breath. I hadn't even noticed I'd been hyperventilating.

Jobasha continued as though he hadn't even noticed my interruption. "All the same, Jobasha hopes you understand he cannot help but worry, when he learns Ajira's new friend is such a person. From her stories, you are... harmless. Whatever stories Jobasha may have heard about why that man wants you," I felt the blood drain from my face, "they do not fit, he thinks. Especially because from the things Jobasha has heard, it would not be the first time he spread lies for his own gain. Still. Jobasha does not know for certain this is so. And although Jobasha may not approve of torturing children... hurting Ajira, that he approves of even less."

I straightened indignantly. "I wouldn't-"

Jobasha held up a hand to silence me. "So it behooves Jobasha, does it not, to keep an eye on you? To see whether this fugitive is really serious about making a new life here, becoming a productive member of her new guild, being friends with his little Ajira. Thus, the errand - to start. And as to why Jobasha trusts you to fulfill it... well."

He paused. I wiped sweaty hands on my robes.

"From what Ajira has said, the one thing you are definitely not is stupid. And making Jobasha angry? This would be a very, very stupid thing for you to do. Do you understand?"

I croaked my confirmation.

Jobasha gave me a smile that showed all his teeth. "I am very glad we had this talk. Please get the book to Edwinna no later than Tirdas."

I barely remembered to take it before I fled.

* * *

><p>Once out of the shop, I stopped and stared at the corridor wall.<p>

In my mind's eye, two faces floated in front of me. I drank in the imagined sight of Charon's wiry black curls, once again escaping from under his cap, the nose that still bore a bump from the time he'd broken it when we were eleven, the dark brown eyes twinkling with humour. Of Ingerte's scattering of freckles, the long ash-blond hair she'd braided into a coronet around her head, her face beautiful as a china doll's which had distracted many a person from the sharp gleam of intelligence in her blue eyes-

"I miss you," I whispered. Their features grew blurry. "I miss you, I miss you, I'm _sorry_-"

I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back tears, feeling the memories hovering at the edge of my mind. If I let them, they'd overwhelm me. Instead, I reached forward and let my fingers trail along the wall, let my thoughts become absorbed by the tingle of rough stone against my fingertips, the soothing pattern of the circling motion...

Once I had myself firmly back in the present, I let my hand drop and opened my eyes. Forget Miun-Gei, I should head back to Balmora as soon as possible. Correction: to Balmora by way of Ald'ruhn. Jobasha had given me a full three days to deliver the book, but it would really, really be better not to risk-

"So. I was right."

I winced when I realised that I'd been so absorbed I hadn't noticed someone else enter the corridor. I really needed to stop being so sloppy about that.

Wait, why did that angry voice sound vaguely familiar?

I turned around and bit back a groan at the sight of an Ordinator's mask. I'd so hoped never to run into Master Grumpy again.

"Innocent tourist? Pah. I knew better from the moment I saw you. Rebel. _Abolitionist_, that's what you are."

It was really quite impressive how Master Grumpy's air of barely controlled fury made the painted, immobile blank expression of his mask seem like an angry scowl- wait, what?

"Buying books is rebellious now?" I asked, incredulous.

"Oh yes, I've been watching Jobasha. A more obvious seditionist I've never seen in my life, even if Commander Andas insists we don't have the evidence to bring him in and I should leave him be-"

I gulped. Apparently Master Grumpy was even more paranoid than the norm for an Ordinator. I wasn't sure whether I should find that relieving or worrying.

"So, outlander." I had the distinct impression that Master Grumpy was smiling under his mask. For some reason, it made me even more uneasy than his normal demeanour. "You are wanted for questioning regarding subversive activity. And once you confess, I'll finally have enough to arrest that fetcher _Jobasha._"

"Now- hey- wait a minute!" I yelped, dodging as he tried to grab me. "I haven't even done anything!" Which is something I really wished mattered more with law enforcement. I glanced at Master Grumpy to see if I could make a break for it-

My eyes widened. "Behind you!"

I winced as my upper arm was captured in a hard, armoured grip. "How stupid do you think I am? That's the oldest trick in the book. You..."

His voice trailed off, he began to sway on his feet. The pressure on my arm vanished as his hand grew limp and fell away. I managed to jump back just in time to avoid being crushed when Master Grumpy collapsed with a clatter.

The Dunmer woman I'd seen come up behind him bent down to retrieve her dagger from the gap in the armour between his pauldrons and his gauntlets. Only the tip was wet, she'd barely nicked him... but the angry red glitter of a destructive enchantment along its blade, not to forget the heap of unconscious or dead Ordinator on the floor, made it clear that in this case a nick was enough.

Instead of straightening, the woman reached for Master Grumpy's mask to wrench his head back. My mind must have been working slowly, because I only realised what she was doing when blood sprayed.

"Outlander." I tore my eyes away from the now definitely, unmistakeably dead Ordinator on the floor to find the woman's fixed on me.

"You- you know," I said, voice shaking, "I think all of you could, could really do with some lessons in peaceful conflict negotiation. You know. Learning how to talk your problems over instead of resorting to vi-" I gulped and tried not to look at the bloody heap that had been Master Grumpy, "to violence. I'd love to give you some tips on the matter but I seem to have forgotten an urgent appointment, I'll just be going now-"

"Dagoth Ur does not want you here, outlander."

My heart fell to my stomach, kept going, and ended up somewhere near what felt like my ankles as the woman began to walk towards me. Now don't get me wrong, I very much disapprove of murder. My preferred method of conflict resolution happens to be talking, with running away a close second. Lethal violence appears nowhere on the list, and the casual way this woman had slit Master Grumpy's throat made nausea rise in my stomach. I would just have liked to disapprove from a nice, safe, thoroughly uninvolved distance, never to mention I much preferred disapproving of murder that wasn't my own.

My perception of the world sharpened in the way extreme unadulterated terror sometimes does to you. Suddenly, every brick on the wall came into sharp relief. Every scar on the woman's face, the sway of her blood-red hair, the blank, glazed look in her eyes engraved itself in my memory, and the woman's already dragging, listing approach slowed to a crawl... really, I almost thought she was sleep-walking. (Sleep-murdering?)

Well. She didn't seem amenable to talking. Running looked like an increasingly good option, except-

I bit back a curse when I felt stone at my back. I'd backed into a corner, Ysmir damn it. I could still try to rush past her, sluggish as she was, but with that knife all she had to do was scratch me and I'd be done for.

Really, this was ridiculous - my second life-threatening experience in three days. Only this time I had to doubt a floating Armiger would be by with a timely rescue.

Wait, what was it about Ervesa...

The spell! Running away was still an option.

Okay. Focus. Focus on something _not_ the approaching spectre of death. Reach into your magicka pool, draw out a rope, throw it out and latch onto the beacon-

I gritted my teeth as my first attempt went straight into the void. Considering this city was supposedly the home of a living god there had to be a Temple here. Try again.

This time my rope hit something close by- wavered- slid off-

My approaching death in sleep-murderess form was getting uncomfortably close.

Finally! A solid hit. Now use the connection to pull yourself from _here_ to _there_-

With no warning, the link I'd created stretched almost to breaking as the beacon I'd latched onto suddenly went from a nice stable fixed point to an arrow shooting off into the distance. I threw myself towards it, desperate-

The world dissolved.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes: <strong>The song Eddie is singing is "A Less Rude Song", an in-game book... I somehow suspect he was singing something else when the Ordinators came around. Also, although I usually prefer to base my portrayal of things solely on vanilla Morrowind and my own imagination, I do play with mods and they affect how I view things. Cassia's pots and pans are, as far as I remember, due to the Less Generic NPC project (I'm pretty sure that's where her crockery census originated), and the description of the slums on the water around the cantons is inspired by the Vivec Expansion mod.


	8. On Teleportation Mishaps

This time, the teleportation was a lot more violent. Instead of the smooth shift of before, it felt rather as if some giant had picked me up and tossed me through the realms of Mysticism in what must be the direction of the nearest Temple. I staggered and almost lost my balance on the 'landing' and made a mental note never to teleport under stress again. Well, at least now I was away from the serial killer and safe at a Temple...

I opened my eyes.

Oh, Ysmir's _balls_.

Judging by the style of interior decorating, the large hall I'd landed in was no Temple, especially since the one I'd seen had tended to the sparsely furnished. Here, on the other hand, the rich decorations - ranging from the very expensive magicka-lit chandelier over gleaming swords with gem-inlaid hilts hanging on the wall to exquisite paintings, all of scowling armour-clad Dunmer - made all of my thieves' instincts spring into high alert.

Rich person's home. Rich person who would probably not be too happy to come home and find an ex-thief in the middle of their manor. I seriously doubted "oh, so sorry, teleportation accident" would fly - I barely believed that story myself and it had actually happened to me. At least there was no one around right now-

"Who in Oblivion are you?"

I turned around, swearing to myself that one day, one day I would learn not to think things that provoked the universe to immediately prove me wrong. "I'm really sorry, this was an accident, I-" I blinked when the angry nobleman I was expecting to face turned out to be a Nord in simple dark clothes. Holding a lockpick.

"I've waited weeks for the perfect opportunity to do this - finally the family's all out at some dinner party, I manage to bribe the maid to put sleeping potion into the guards' food, everything's going according to plan and then some witch decides to pop out of nowhere. Damn it all to the Deadlands, the Sarethis weren't nearly this much trouble."

The man had swapped his lockpick for a dagger - it seemed to be made out of the glittering green material Fasile had called 'glass', which under other circumstances I'd have been curious about. In this case, however, I found my attention much more caught by the fact that it looked sharp and was pointing at me. Why did everyone I met today want to stab me? Had I accidentally left the Mages' Guild with an 'Adryn: now doubling as a pincushion' sign stuck to my back?

"Now," the Nord continued, "tell me what you're doing here or else-"

"Teleportation gone wrong. Would you mind not waving that in my face? Besides," some sense of professional pride reared its head, "you don't look _that_ green, surely you know not to kill someone on a burglary. You know - thieves' honour, not to making the profession look bad, avoiding guardsmen coming after everyone with sharp objects, the usual. And what are you even planning on doing with the bod-"

"Did I ask you how to do my job?" the man snapped. "No! I didn't! And- teleportation gone wrong, you expect me to believe that? Everyone knows that doesn't actually happen." Oh, thank you so much for telling me. I bow to your superior skills and experience. Clearly this is in fact a Temple and I'm just hallucinating. Happens all the time. "What's to stop you from running out and getting the guards right now?"

Well, for one the fact that I had no idea where 'out' was. There were several doors I could see and I hadn't the slightest idea which one was the exit. But he didn't need to know that. Instead... "If I were going to do that I would have already, surely? Honestly, I don't want any trouble. I'll just leave now and you can pretend I was never here-"

The Nord scowled. "Not a chance, witch. I don't want to risk that you'll call the authorities, either on purpose or by blundering into them." My back stiffened in indignation - this greenhorn insulting my stealth skills? - but he continued. "No, you can just stay right here with me while I finish my business, and I'll figure out what to do with you when we're both out of here."

That, like a lot of the things the man had said so far, sounded remarkably short-sighted - and believe me, when _I'm_ the one saying this, it really means something. "What, you're planning on dragging me with you while you search for the jewellery box? Seriously, just let me go and I'll-"

A meaty hand grabbed my forearm. "No, you're coming with me. It won't be long. I heard Venim bragging about some priceless treasure he had locked up in his home, and dear Vendrela from the kitchen was so helpful in telling me that there's two guards always loitering about here." Indeed, he was steering me towards a suspicious-looking tapestry flanked by two collapsed figures. Sleeping potion, hadn't he said? I couldn't fault his planning for this heist, even if I did have to fault his attitude. "And then the whole world will know of Allding, who broke into two Councilor mansions! A feat the Grey Fox or the Gentleman would have been hard-put to manage!" And his discretion. Really, I pondered as Allhotair pushed aside the tapestry to uncover a (badly) hidden door, if I were his guildmaster I'd have kicked him out long ago just for excessive boasting. "Then Aengoth will promote me for sure." Or for being utterly pathetic.

He had to let me go to pick the lock on the door, which would have been the opportune moment to make a run for it. I didn't, because I still didn't know where "out" was or, for that matter, what "out" was. (Was I even in Vivec anymore?) Besides, I knew that make of lock and it wouldn't take him-

Good grief.

I winced as one of his picks snapped in the lock and he fumbled for another one. Scratch the boasting, who on Nirn had hired the man? With that dexterity he ought to be a juggler - you know, the kind that makes the audience laugh because of their sheer incompetence, whose ultimate trick is knocking themselves out by accident.

"Oh for- let me, or else we'll be here all night." I reached over and grabbed the picks out of his hands. "I refuse to let myself get arrested because you're too incompetent to manage a simple lock."

By the time he closed his mouth I already had the first pick in the lock. Pretty lousy quality, and the lock was a bit more difficult than I'd guessed, but-

"Hey, what do you think you're doi-"

_Snick._

I felt a smug smile spread across my face as his mouth dropped open again. "Opening the door. Since you were having such trouble with it. By the way," I was feeling magnanimous - definitely magnanimous, it most certainly wasn't gloating, "don't jerk the picks suddenly in a Vicici style lock. The tumblers are positioned in a way that makes them snap easily. Increase the pressure gently, you don't need much."

"I'll do that. Thanks." The look Allboasts graced me with was quite a bit less hostile and more thoughtful than his previous. Perhaps he could be trained! Not too much of a surprise - I hear you can train monkeys, after all, and he seemed only a little less intelligent than one. "Say, you're not half bad." Why, thank you for noticing. Better than you, anyway. "Who are you, anyway? You Guild too?"

"I'm A-" giving my real name to a Guild thief who was curious about my skill was _a very bad idea Adryn what are you doi-_ "-Arvese," I invented quickly, silently apologising to Ervesa. "And no, I'm... retired. Except when someone decides to drag me along against my will." I shot him a glare.

He shrugged, totally unapologetic. "I want you where I can see you. Now, let's see what beauties old Venim has hidden behind here - and don't you think you'll get a share..." he eased the door open.

The sight that met our eyes was definitely not one I was expecting.

"Well, about time. With all due respect, surely an essential part of kidnapping involves not letting your victim starve to- wait a minute. You're not the guards."

Allding and I stared at each other, then at the bare cell behind the door. Bare, that was, apart from the Dunmer occupying it.

He looked about my age, with dark hair in a spiky half-shaved haircut that meant he was probably trying to give his parents a heart attack. His clothes were rich velvets (the kind that act much like a sign saying "my purse is crushing me under its weight, I would be ever so grateful if you relieved me of it" for thieves) although they were ripped and rumpled - I guessed from his captivity, although the heavy chains couldn't have helped either.

"Are you here to rescue me?" It was almost painful to watch his eyes light up with hope. "My name is Varvur Sarethi, my father is Athyn Sarethi, the Councilor." I heard a small moan from Allincompetent. "He'll reward you. Please- no!"

I grabbed Allding's arm before he could close the door again. "What do you think you're doing?" I hissed.

He glared at me. "Women. Bleeding hearts. Don't see what business it is of yours, but I have no damn intention of getting involved in politics." He spat. "That's the kind of thing that gets people like us killed."

He was right, but. "It's my business because you made it my business, and guess what, we're involved now whether we want it or not!" I whispered furiously. "You think whoever lives here is just going to leave us alone now that we've found him? You think _he's_ going to keep quiet about the two intruders who stumbled upon him? Or his father will be happy about this if he does get rescued?" The set of Varvur's face made it clear that if we left him here, he would make sure we regretted it if it was the last thing he did. "At least if we grab him someone in this mess will be on our side!"

I moved towards him. The lockpicks were still in my hand...

"No, I'm going to stay well out of this." Allcoward turned his back to the prisoner, clearly preparing to storm off. "If you're so insistent on playing with the nobility, you can-" He broke off abruptly.

"Well, well, what have we here."

I turned around.

There should really be an upper limit on the amount of misfortune someone can experience in a day.

The Dunmer now standing at the other end of the room looked a lot like the angry nobleman I'd been worried about earlier. Worse yet, he didn't even look like an angry nobleman of the pampered, helpless without his guards variety where you can at least try to intimidate them into letting you run for it. No, this looked like an angry nobleman who ate the former type for breakfast and followed them off with a rampaging snow bear for lunch. The full suit of - was that actually ebony armour? - left that impression. Of course, he also had two guards with him. The effect was rather like that of a tiger flanked by kittens.

Maybe it was my lucky day and he wasn't actually the owner. Maybe he was just - just passing through, and would be shocked to find a kidnap victim and I could pretend to have been on a benevolent rescue mission-

"A spy. In my home."

My last shred of hope fizzled and died.

Wait a moment, why the singular?

My eyes darted to the side. Fumble-fingered he might be, but apparently Alltraitor could move quickly when push came to shove. He'd managed to make it to the side of the cell, out of view from the main room, and was fumbling with a potion. He looked at me, clearly pleading for me not to say anything. I scowled at him.

That said, there were times for taking revenge on treacherous snakes and there were times to prioritise one's own hide, in particular the saving thereof. This was definitely one of the latter.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, then closed it when I realised I was currently bereft of any plausible explanation. Well, if the mer could just give a moment - sheer desperation had always led to my greatest bouts of what I called 'creative planning' and Charon called 'utter insanity' in the past, I was sure it wouldn't let me down now-

Alas, the nobleman didn't seem inclined to wait for me to come up with something. His eyes narrowed, then he snapped something in what I supposed was Dunmeris. I didn't understand him, but judging by the way the guards started moving forwards I thought I could guess at the gist.

Said guards were noticeably slower and more wobbly than I am used to guards being. The potion was clearly still in their system. Now, if I were even remotely skilled at combat, this might have made a difference. Sadly, even a Bosmer who's just smoked a full pipe of skooma and is actually trying to attack the glowing rainbow unicorn behind me is capable of physically overwhelming me. (No, I'd rather not explain how I know that.) And, as if to prove that things could still get worse, the two guards knocked out at the entrance to the cell started stirring. The commotion had probably managed to penetrate their drug-induced haze.

My eyes darted from side to side. Allcoward was gone - an invisibility potion, I guessed, and he hadn't brought enough to share. Well, I was sure there'd be plenty of opportunity to revenge myself on him for landing me in this situation once I got out of it. As I was going to figure out a cunning plan to do exactly that in a moment.

Any second now.

A hand on my wrist. Varvur. "Don't you have any Intervention scrolls or something?" he whispered.

Oh. Of course.

All things considered, it looked as if staying here would be much more detrimental to my health than casting that spell again.

When the nobleman saw me raise my hands into a casting position, he shouted something and started forward himself. The speed at which he advanced made it obvious he hadn't so much as sniffed the sleeping potion the guards had been given-

To Oblivion with carefully locating the nearest beacon. I just tossed a rope out and _yanked_.

This teleport was even rougher than the previous one. My stomach lurched when I rematerialised with a jerk, stone floor shifting to-

To-

To...

Why was someone screaming?

I looked down.

It looked as if I'd been a bit hasty in deciding that teleporting would be a safer option than staying where I was. In fact, I found myself wishing desperately I'd decided to stick around. I'd probably have ended up in the cell with Varvur, but cells are nice, safe places. In particular, they have floors. Floors, I thought, were a decidedly undervalued commodity. Ground in general, in fact. True, the ground here seemed eager to reunite with us, was in fact approaching with remarkable speed, but we were far enough away that we were going to be bereft of it for some time all the same. I for one wasn't looking forward to the reunion.

Pain. Fingers digging into my wrist. I'd taken Varvur with me, and he'd finally managed to stop screaming.

"_Do something!_" He didn't sound very happy about this turn of events. I couldn't blame him.

"Like what?" I yelled. Ooh, those tiny dots down below were trees.

"You're a mage! Cast a spell!"

I pondered my repertoire. Illusion, detection, waterwalking, firebite... no, not exactly useful in this situation. The teleport - even aside from the fact that the way things were going we'd probably end up three miles _under_ ground next, I wasn't sure if teleports reduced velocity. Ending up flat as a pancake at a Temple was if anything an even worse option, since at least this way our afterlife wouldn't be haunted by gods angry at us for getting bits of ourselves all over their holy place. Shield spell? Doubtful. I didn't think a spell made for keeping off the rain would help us survive a fall from this height, unless the weather here was a lot stranger than anyone had told me.

"I don't know any that would help!"

Varvur stared at me. "Seriously? I thought all you mages could levitate!"

"Well, I'm not a ma-" Levitation... wait a minute, what did that remind me of...

Those trees were looking bigger and bigger.

Levitation, of the Alteration school, closely related to the Slowfall effe-

The amulet!

I reached under my shirt with my free hand, ignored Varvur's eyes bugging out, grabbed the amulet and _concentrated-_

Our fall slowed to a gentle descent, as though the two of us weighed as much as a feather.

"What was that?" Varvur asked. Now that I wasn't distracted by our imminent death via being scattered across the landscape, I noticed there was sweat trickling down his face and his breath was coming in fast pants. All things considered, I doubted I looked much better.

"Slowfall enchantment," I answered him, carefully drawing the amulet out of my shirt. My eyes were drawn back down again, and I winced as I realised that the ground was still a rather disquietening distance away. I must admit, shameful as it is, that ground is one thing where I am extremely conservative and not inclined to new experiences. Not for me aerial explorations, I am one of the ground-loving people who wants firm earth under her feet as much as possible. Although at the moment I didn't feel inclined to be fussy - I'd be ecstatic with a tree branch, a net, a circus highwire, _anything oh Nine anything-_

"That's. Handy." From the looks of it - in particular the looks he was shooting in a general downwards direction - Varvur was just as attached to the idea of ground, for the standing upon, as I was.

"Lucky. I only got it today and was planning to sell it." Past tense. Now, I was ready to swear by Zenithar never to let this amulet out of my sight. I wouldn't have traded it for Azura's Star. People might laugh at me but, I ask you, what use is Azura's Star when you're several rapidly-decreasing miles in midair?

"That's the kind of luck I think we could both use more of. Um..." Varvur paused and licked his lips. "I don't suppose you know how long the enchantment lasts?"

We stared at each other.

Of course, most likely due to the universe wanting to prove yet again that it really did have a sense of irony, that was when we started falling again.

A few seconds later, I managed to get enough of my mind off of our once again rapidly approaching horrible death that I could muster the concentration necessary for the amulet, leaving us drifting once more.

"Right," I said once my teeth had stopped chattering. "So I just have to call up the enchantment as soon as it wears off until we reach the ground... or. Wait." I didn't exactly have much in the way of experience with enchanted objects, but one of the few things I did remember was jumping up and down screaming for attention.

And Varvur was shaking his head too. "How many charges does that thing have?"

I focused on the amulet for a moment, in particular the energy emanating from it. Energy which was definitely reduced compared to earlier. "Maybe... three more? Or four?" I hazarded.

"Not enough to get us all the way down. So you're just going to have to let us fall most of the way," Varvur said.

I stared down at the trees far below. "Right. I'll... get right on that."

As if on cue, the enchantment wore off.

* * *

><p>The sight that would have greeted any passing bird or levitating mage that evening was unique, and quite possibly amusing if observed from a secure vantage point. Two Dunmer - one in plain robes clutching an expensive amulet, one in velvets and heavy chains - hovering among the treetops, clinging to each other and arguing loudly.<p>

"Too early! Again!"

I glared at Varvur. "This isn't easy, you know! Would you rather it be too late? Besides, we're almost all the way down and I've still got a charge left. Maybe two."

"Don't you think 'maybe' is a bad word to be using in this context?"

"Look, if you're so intent on criticising me, you can take the amulet and give it a try!"

"You may have not considered this, but I don't think fooling around with the only thing holding us up right now is a good ide- _watch out for that tree!_"

At that point things happened very quickly.

The enchantment wore off. I was staring downwards, readying myself to call on it again, when my arm exploded in pain and the amulet fell out of my nerveless fingers.

Oh _crap-_

Ow, ow, ow, ow, _ow!_

A few moments later found me lying on the ground - and oh, I would never take that for granted again - staring up into the trees. One tree in particular, one whose branches bore the marks of our rather violent passing.

"I am never taking ground for granted again," I said out loud. It bore repeating.

"Agreed," came a voice from next to me. Apparently Varvur had survived our fall. Now I only needed to work out whether I had. "Honestly, I'm not sure whether to thank you for rescuing me or strangle you for almost getting me killed."

And just when I'd figured out - with relief - that I was still alive I found myself in mortal danger. Again. This was becoming strangely routine. "Now, I know this may sound very unexpected but I vote for the option without grievous bodily harm?" True, I thought he was being hyperbolic, but after the day I'd had I figured one couldn't be too careful. "And besides, if it weren't for you I wouldn't be in this situation myself so if anyone ought to be pondering murder here..."

"Well, I suppose I did come away with only minor injuries in the end, so I can't hold too much of a grudge." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Varvur had managed to sit up, although it had involved quite a bit of wincing and even more complicated maneuvering to make up for the fact that he was still in chains. "Are you all right?"

"I think so- wait." I noticed something in my first attempt to sit up. "Ooh, that's funny, I didn't know arms could bend that way."

"I think that's because they're not meant to." Varvur waddled closer. I'd say the reason I didn't laugh was out of courtesy, but since that was when the pain hit I suddenly had other things to worry about. "Yes, definitely broken. At least it wasn't your leg, since we need to walk out of here." He gave a rueful glance downwards. "Or hop."

I glanced at his chains, then realised that I still had Allding's lockpicks in my other, still useable hand. I'd been holding them before we teleported, and was now clutching them so tightly the indentations would probably still be visible two weeks from now. "I think I can do something about that..."

Thankfully for both of us, the tree had been so kind as to only break my right arm - that's courteous plant life for you. Picking a lock one-handed was something I'd spent some time practicing, but doing so with inferior, unfamiliar tools while trying to ignore a broken arm was difficult enough; if I'd had to do it without my dominant hand we might have been stuck there until we both starved to death.

Varvur watched me with bemusement. "Interesting. I didn't think mages went in for that sort of thing. But I suppose you were burgling the Archmaster's manor." He sounded disapproving.

"Look," I snapped, "I'm not a mage. Or a thief. Well, I was one once - a thief, that is, not a mage, but I'm retired now in any case, and I suppose you could say I'm sort of a mage but still -" Varvur was looking confused. I decided to simplify things. "I wasn't burgling anything, all right? I was an innocent bystander in all of this!"

"Really." The voice was dry enough to turn a swamp to desert. "Then what were you doing in the Archmaster's manor, muthsera not-a-thief?"

"First of all, my name is Adryn, so you can stop with the nickname." The chains on Varvur's ankles fell to the ground with a thud. "And - give me your wrists - it was a teleportation accident."

"You know," Varvur said reflectively as I started on his manacles, "if you'd asked me recently I would have told you that wasn't possible. Very recently, in fact. Up until... oh... ten minutes ago."

"That's me." I accidentally jostled my right arm and had to pause, gritting my teeth against a wave of pain. "Stretching the bounds of mortal achievement in ways we could definitely have done without." _Click._ There, that was the manacles. Now the only thing left was the bracer on his left forearm. It wasn't hindering him, true, but I recognised it - and more importantly, I could feel the tugging at my magicka just by holding my hand near it. It was a magicka-draining device, and if Varvur happened to know any useful spells (like, oh, to pick one entirely at random - healing spells) I wanted him free to cast them.

"By the way," I said as I wiggled the first pick, "who was that, anyway? You said something about the 'Archmaster'?" Ordinarily, I'd prefer to work without distractions, but Varvur was still looking disapproving about my less-than-legal past and I suspected that if I didn't find another topic of conversation we'd end up arguing about my career choices.

"Who was..." A pause. "You were burgling the manor of Bolvyn Venim, the Archmaster of House Redoran himself, without even knowing who it belonged to?"

"For the last time, I wasn't burgling-!" I cut myself off. I could see that this wasn't going to get me anywhere, and besides, the other part of that sounded rather ominous. "Um. I take it he's important, then?"

"'Take it he's important'?" I could actually hear Varvur's jaw drop. I looked up from my work to shoot him a glare, one which he rudely ignored. "He's the head of House Redoran on Vvardenfell! Lord of Ald'ruhn! Probably the most powerful man on the island after Archcanon Saryoni and Duke Dren!"

My heart sank with the approximate force and velocity of a Dunmer, bereft of Slowfall spells, dropping from three miles in midair (a comparison I had to say I felt uniquely able to make). "Thanks. That's, that's perfect. That's just what I was hoping to hear." I poked angrily at the lock. Not only were the pain and pulling sensation at my magicka making it hard to concentrate, but it was being recalcitrant. I dimly remembered that prisoners' bracers are said to be very difficult to pick, but I'd be damned if I got bested by a piece of metal. "I mean, I definitely wanted to make an enemy of one of the most powerful men here less than a week after I arrived. And I certainly wanted to do it in a way that left him able to identify me. My life didn't have enough excitement in it, you see."

Varvur, who'd been watching my actions with a steadily growing scowl - I wasn't sure whether it was my rubbing my criminal past in his face or the trouble I was having with the lock, but was readying a cutting retort for either case - snorted. "Don't you think you're being a bit paranoid?"

My jerk handily undid everything I'd managed so far and almost broke both picks as an encore. "_Paranoid?_ Are you serious?" Wait, hadn't he said something about his father being... "Is this one of those nobility out-of-touch-with-reality things? I have no idea what you're used to but I assure you, for normal people like me, being worried about the reaction a man like that has to being crossed is-"

Varvur looked as if he were about to take offense to the 'normal people' comment but let it go in the end. "No, I mean that he seems to be under the impression that you're some sort of Telvanni mercenary." I looked blank. He heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Didn't you hear him? He said something like... 'I didn't think even Athyn would stoop so low as to consort with the Telvanni, but of course he insists on surprising me.'"

I thought back to the encounter. Come to think of it, some of those Dunmeris phrases had been a bit long for the equivalent of "Guards, arrest her". I'd just thought he was getting creative with his orders - perhaps something along the lines of "Guards, arrest this filthy spy and take her to the dungeons with the thumbscrews and pot of hot oil", although I had to admit I'd been holding out for the rather unlikely "Guards, take this completely innocent bystander and escort her to the exit, where you should let her go with a polite farewell and a few drakes for her trouble." In any case, I hadn't expected it to be anything like Varvur's translation.

It might be a good idea to look into learning the language. Were there classes?

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Varvur was now peering at me. "You do look rather Telvanni, come to think of it. The hair, and then you wearing mage robes... I mean, it's obvious that you're an outlander, but the Archmaster only saw you from a distance and didn't hear you speak. I guess I can see how he might make that mistake."

"Right. Lovely." I nudged one pick to the side slightly. Almost there... "I'm sure knowing he thinks I'm Telvanni will be useful, especially if I figure out what one is."

"Oh, of course, you're an outlander. Telvanni are another House, based on the east coast, mostly mages. They... well, they're _Telvanni_. I mean..."

Varvur trailed off, clearly stumped as to how to explain in what way exactly Telvanni were Telvanni. I didn't mind much, because I'd learned the most important thing - namely, that with the confusion about my identity I was unlikely to end up with an angry Venim chasing me down to be a change from his usual diet of noblemen and snow bears. Also, Varvur's silence gave me a moment to focus on-

There! A last tumbler hiding at the back - twist the pick like so-

The bracer fell to the ground. Varvur sighed in relief, and I could see his face starting to regain some colour. I couldn't blame him. Just a few minutes in contact with that thing had been unpleasant, and I hadn't even worn it.

"Thank you," he said.

About time, if you asked me. Rescue someone at great personal risk, and they only bother to thank you after you've put off treating your own injuries to free them from their chains. Hostages these days, honestly.

I'd been expecting Varvur to want a few moments to catch his breath and recover, but he was already struggling to his feet. "Things aren't going to get any better if we sit around here," he said in response to my quizzical look. "We need to find our way to the nearest town, and I'd prefer to spend as little time as possible tramping around in the dark."

I glanced to the west, where the sun was dipping dangerously low, and had to admit he had a point.

* * *

><p>A brief time later found us making our way through the wilderness. Apparently, while we'd been floating in midair and I'd been desperately trying to keep us from dying, Varvur had decided this was the perfect time to do some leisurely sightseeing. I couldn't be too bitter about it because it meant he'd spotted a road to the east. As a result, we had a better plan of action than my suggestion of picking a direction at random.<p>

I ducked under a branch Varvur was holding up for me. Given that it was hardly his fault I'd blundered into where he'd been being held hostage, I'd been forcing myself not to be angry with him. It was rather difficult - pain makes me short-tempered at the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times - but I persevered. It helped that I knew he'd probably been having about as bad a day as me.

Varvur was also helping through being surprisingly congenial. Not only had he taken my pack (which I had been extremely relieved to find had survived totally unscathed - I suspected a broken arm would be the least of my worries if _Chronicles of Nchuleft_ got damaged), but he'd even turned out to have a little knowledge of healing: he'd set my arm, fashioned a makeshift splint and sling for my arm using branches and strips torn from his shirt, and tried his best with a healing spell he knew once his magicka had recovered. It was only a minor one meant for bruises, but it did take the edge of the pain off.

Sadly, this meant most of the pain was entirely untouched.

"-where we are," the three words coming from in front of me managed to penetrate my mental haze.

Oh. Varvur was talking. Talking meant distraction, meant not thinking about the agony emanating from my arm. Talking was good. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, I wish I knew where we are," Varvur repeated. "Not wet enough for the Bitter Coast and I don't smell the sea, I'd guess somewhere in the West Gash or maybe inland of the Ascadian Isles, near Lake Amaya-"

I'd been sufficiently distracted from my surroundings that the only thing I'd registered was "it's green and there are arm-breaking trees that hate me." I looked around.

We were walking among craggy hills dotted with low, scrubby bushes and the occasional copse of broad-leafed trees. The landscape was rocky and the vegetation generally sparse - I thought we might be in the rain shadow of the mountain, although I supposed the cause could also be poor soil. Still, there were a few plants I thought might be alchemically interesting. That bush over there, for one, or that tall plant with the big yellow-orange trumpet-shaped blossom and sharp-edged leaves.

"Not near Lake Amaya," I said. I'd only been there once but I had picked up something of the area. "The flora's all wrong and there aren't any giant mushrooms masquerading as trees. It looks more like the landscape near Balmora."

Varvur looked as if he were going to argue that, then paused for a moment and just nodded. Maybe I wasn't the only one keeping a tight rein on their temper. "West Gash, then. Sadly, that means we could be anywhere between Khuul and the Odai Plateau. And most likely nowhere near Ald'ruhn."

For a moment I thought longingly of the enchanted map that had come into my possession, the map that could tell us exactly where we were for just a trickle of magicka. The map I'd left at the guild that morning, thinking I wouldn't need it for a quick sight-seeing jaunt to another city...

Wait a minute. What had Varvur just said?

"We were in Ald'ruhn?" I didn't exactly know this island very well, but I did remember talking with Selvil about the Balmora silt strider schedule and destinations. "Isn't that north of Balmora?"

Varvur stared at me as if I'd grown a second head. "Yes, we were. And it is. Where on Nirn did you think we were?"

"Well... I was shopping in Vivec when I cast the spell. I managed to figure out I hadn't made it to their Temple or in fact any Temple, but..."

Now Varvur stared at me as if I'd grown a third head and my mutant self was arguing with herself and blundering into trees. "You got to Venim's manor with an Almsivi Intervention spell from _Vivec_?"

I couldn't help but feel defensive. Yes, I'd managed to figure out that I'd screwed up this spell in a spectacular and unprecedented way, and twice in a row to boot. No need to rub it in. "In my defense, I was being attacked by a murderer at the time, so I didn't exactly have time to concentrate!"

"But even if you weren't concentrating, it's not meant to-" Varvur paused. "Murderer?"

I shuddered at the memory. The woman, the dagger gleaming with malicious magicka, her blank eyes... I wasn't used to people trying to kill me just because I was there. I prefer my murder attempts more personal, thank you very much. If someone chases you through half the city screaming about how they'll wring your filthy dark elven neck for stealing their- for accidentally having their purse fall into your pocket in a mishap that could really happen to anyone, then at least you know that they're objecting to your continued existence on an individual basis.

Oh. Varvur was waiting for an explanation.

"Yes, murderer. I was having a... polite discussion about hospitality with an Ordinator when this woman with an enchanted dagger stabbed him from behind, cut his throat and then tried to get me." I firmly shoved the remembered panic down. I could have a nervous breakdown about all of this once I was somewhere safe and - oh yes - no longer had a broken arm.

Ow.

"Right, I remember hearing about this from a trader. They say there's been a rash of murders in Vivec - mainly outlanders. I don't remember them saying anything about surviving witnesses, though." Varvur sounded thoughtful.

"You mean... you mean I might be the only person who can identify her?" The thought made me cringe.

Of course, it would be good to help end her sleepmurdering serial killer ways. All arguments about altruism and service to the community aside (really, _please_ set them aside), I'd rather like to be able to visit Vivec again one day without fearing for my life, something that wasn't going to happen as long as she was running around. However, I was worried that being the sole witness to a murder would require me to spend far longer with law enforcement than I liked. And that was without factoring in that Vivec law enforcement apparently consisted of Master Grumpy's colleagues.

"Say, have you ever considered getting yourself checked at a Temple?"

I was jerked out of nightmare scenarios in which Ordinators featured prominently by Varvur's voice. Varvur's voice asking an exceptionally stupid question, at that, and at the moment my tolerance for stupidity was a lot lower than usual (which is, I admit, saying something.)

"Why, no," I said acidly. "I was thinking I'd just keep wandering around with a broken arm, I'm sure it'll magically heal itself overnight-"

"No, no - although speaking of which," Varvur stopped walking and turned to face me, "I have enough magicka to use that spell again."

A few minutes, a cast spell and some blessed pain relief later, Varvur continued. "What I meant was getting yourself checked for curses."

"Curses?" Maybe it was the day I'd had, but I wasn't quite following.

Varvur nodded, then started walking again. In usual circumstances, I'd probably be swearing at my aching legs at this point, but this is one of the dubious upsides to broken bones - it makes all the usual aches and pains next to unnoticeable in comparison! "It happened to Unc- um, House Father Arobar, one of the other Redoran Councilors. He told me about it when I was younger. Apparently there are curses that give you bad luck, you see. He had a week where everything seemed to go wrong. Finally he ended up attacked by a flock of cliff racers during an ash storm on the way to Maar Gan, and when he was in the Temple being healed the priest told him he'd been cursed."

I had to admit that was a very appealing thought. Appealing in the sense that if it was a curse, I could go to the Temple, get it removed and rest assured that these things would stop happening to me. Sadly, I suspected that this was actually a case of some gods (definitely several, one couldn't explain all this) with a grudge. Or possibly ones with an inventive and highly sadistic sense of humour. And-

A thought struck me and I groaned.

"What? It's not impossible, and-" Varvur seemed affronted to think I was casting doubt on his idea.

"No, no, it's just - I cannot believe that someone who's just been kidnapped and held hostage is saying they find my bad luck remarkable," I moaned. To distract myself from how unbelievable my misfortune had clearly become, I tried to think of a change of topic.

The universe, possibly feeling apologetic for what it had been putting me through, decided to take care of that for me.

"Hail and well met, travellers!"

My head whipped around and I stared in the direction of the strange voice. A split second later, I had my eyes firmly shut.

We'd been so engrossed in talking that neither of us had realised we were nearing the edge of the road Varvur had spotted. However, the Nord standing on the road had clearly noticed us. I might be a bit more detailed in my description of him, except that where I might usually notice hair colour or age I'd found my attention firmly drawn by the fact that he was utterly, unrepentantly, positively _ostentatiously_ naked.

"Uh. Er." Judging by his incoherency, I suspected Varvur was equally bowled over by the sudden appearance of a Nord with nudist tendencies.

"Fine evening today, isn't it?" the Nord continued, apparently undeterred by our gaping.

"Ah. Yes. I. I. Suppose." And Varvur sounded as if he was going to keep up his best impression of a concussed cow for a while.

I opened my eyes into a squint in case the shocks of the day had caused us both to hallucinate (or perhaps another word would be more appropriate, since this wouldn't be "seeing things that aren't there" so much as the opposite...) Alas, the pale pinkish blob that greeted me before I shut my eyes again made clear I was hoping in vain.

"A mite chilly, maybe."

Okay, that was it.

"Have you ever considered," I said between clenched teeth, "that the reason you are finding it 'a mite chilly' might be because you are naked."

"Why, of course!" The man had the gall to sound surprised. "Forgive me - I nearly forgot, you see."

"Forgot. That you were naked." I had the strangest sensation of the universe spinning out of control around me. "Why. Are you. _Naked_."

"Well, friends, that is a story indeed-"

"Excuse me." Varvur seemed to have regained control of his tongue. "Good... good sir." Good garment-challenged sir, I corrected silently. "Before we continue this discussion, I would like to lend you my shirt."

"That's very kind of you, but-"

"Really. I insist." Varvur seemed to be surprisingly good at this diplomacy thing once he overcame shock; I suspected that if I hadn't just spent several hours defying death in new and creative ways with him I wouldn't even have noticed the edge of desperation to his voice.

"Ah, very well then-"

Rustling noises followed.

"Is it safe to look yet?" I hissed at Varvur.

"How do you expect me to know?" he hissed back.

I cracked one eye open suspiciously, then, relieved, opened the other. Now, this may appear slightly unusual - I must admit that ordinarily, the sight of a Nord in a red velvet loincloth would not be something I welcomed with anything other than screams of horror. This just goes to show one of those maxims of the universe -

Context really is everything.

"Thank you, friends!" the Nord boomed. "You have Hlormar Wine-Sot's gratitude."

"Don't mention it," I muttered. "Really."

"Indeed, tis good to know that all travellers are not as dishonourable and treacherous as that evil witch Sosia!" Hlormar continued.

"Witch?"

Hlormar's face fell into a frightful scowl. "Indeed. With her foul magics she stole my father's axe Cloudcleaver! Oh, and my other possessions," Hlormar added as if as an afterthought.

"Including your clothes, I assume."

Hlormar continued as though he hadn't heard me. "A precious heirloom for my family is Cloudcleaver! To have lost it to such treachery shames me and all my ancestors. I must retrieve it." At this point he paused, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Say, travellers, would you aid me? The witch cannot have gone far, and if we pursue her together she will surely quail in front of our superior forces."

I stared at the Nord, trying to work out how to diplomatically phrase my reaction to that suggestion (which could be summed up in words if one tried, but I really felt desperate screaming got the meaning across better). "Ah, that is of course a very... I mean, we would definitely help you but I'm afraid we're a bit-"

Varvur cleared his throat.

* * *

><p>"Explain to me again," I said, glaring at Varvur, "exactly why we're doing this?"<p>

"It's a matter of honour," was his rather unhelpful response.

Oh, wonderful. And I'd been hoping he was at least somewhat sensible. Maybe the sight of a naked or almost-naked Nord had similarly negative effects on the unprepared mind as helmets in all their varieties? (It _would_ explain a great deal about Skyrim culture...). If so, I was luckily immune; even the sight of a loinclothed Nord walking some distance in front of me hadn't made me any more inclined towards getting violently involved in the business of strangers on account of 'honour'.

"Honour? We're stuck Hermaeus-Mora-knows-where with hardly more than the clothes on our back - less than that for some of us, in fact - it's going to be getting dark soon and we have no shelter in sight, my thrice-damned _arm is broken_, you just signed us up to go hunting a witch with our bare hands and a bare Nord and you're talking about honour?"

Varvur flushed. "I forgot about your arm."

"Lovely. How nice for you. I didn't." As a matter of fact my arm was throbbing, I imagined in protest at this entire absurd plan of action.

For the several dozenth time, I considered leaving the two fools to it and looking for civilisation on my own. Just as before, I decided that I was doomed and at least the witch would hopefully kill me quickly.

"Maybe if you just... stay back..." Varvur's voice trailed off.

"Brilliant idea, that. I'm certain you'll easily subdue her with your amazing unarmed prowess before she has the chance to turn us all into dust with lightning bolts. Or maybe you could just shock her into submission by asking Hlormar to whip off his loincloth again. Since you're bosom buddies now and all."

Varvur's shoulders fell. He looked so pathetically dejected that I might, possibly, have felt sorry for him if he hadn't been marching us towards certain mage-induced death. "Adryn, I asked him earlier and - we're north of Caldera. That's Redoran country, it's not so far from Ald'ruhn. I have a duty to the people here, you know? If there's some witch going around stealing people's- people's belongings-"

"You can say 'clothes'," I threw in. "It won't kill you."

"-well, I have to do something about that. Just letting her go on would be cowardly. Any Redoran would agree."

I had to give a moment of silent thanks that I wasn't a Redoran, because not going to attack a mage while unarmed and half-naked seemed to me to belong more in the realm of possessing a brain.

And speaking of possessing brains...

"Look, doesn't this seem a little... dubious to you?" I asked.

Varvur looked at me incomprehendingly. "Going to rid the countryside of a dangerous, magic-using bandit?"

I sighed. Sometimes you get tired of being the only person in your surroundings with the slightest drop of sense. "What I'm saying is, we've only got Hlormar's word for it that that's what happened. Does he honestly strike you as the kind of person whose word you ought to take without any further questions?"

We looked at Hlormar.

As if on cue, we heard a bellow of "Cursed witch! This is what I will do to your head when I catch you!" from up ahead, followed by a loud thunk and a groan of pain. "...I did not think the tree trunk would be quite so hard..."

"Point taken," Varvur said, then blinked. "Wait a moment, are you defending the witch where just a moment ago you were talking about how she'd certainly kill us?"

I gritted my teeth. "Unlike what sometimes feels like the majority of the population, I am capable of keeping several possibilities in my head at the same time. If the witch is dangerous, we're dead, so why on Nirn are we going along with this? If the witch isn't dangerous, Hlormar was lying to us and there's no reason to hurt her but he'll probably kill us if we side with her, so why on Nirn are we going along with this? The inescapable conclusion, you might realise at this point-"

"Of course, I hadn't thought of that." I perked up in hope, hope which was mercilessly crushed with Varvur's next sentence. (Brute.) "If the witch isn't dangerous, honour demands that we follow Hlormar to keep him from harming her."

I stared at him. "Excuse me. Are we actually speaking the same language? Because I say things, then you say things, but the logical connection between the two seems to have gone for a holida-"

"Oh, hello!" A feminine voice echoed from my left.

I turned my head to stare at the (supposedly) dreadfully dangerous witch we'd been hunting and had apparently managed to walk straight past.

I had to admit she didn't look very dangerous. She was an Imperial or Breton - her pale skin and dark brown hair meant she must be one of the two, but which was hard to tell from the distance - and I guessed her to be around thirty years old. She was wearing simple robes with patches and stains that were visible even from here and was just straightening from a crouch in front of a bush some distance from the path, holding a small knife in one hand and a bundle of leaves in the other. Now, appearances and the kinship for a fellow alchemist can be deceiving , so she obviously could still be lethal and about to kill us all... but I had to doubt it. The way she grinned at us and waved as she approached made me doubt it even more (along with her sense).

"I haven't seen anyone around for hours! My name is Sosia, I'm a healer trying to get to Ald'ruhn- are you sure you want to be running around half-naked like that?" That was directed at the shirtless Varvur. "You might catch something! Folvys at the Temple says that chills lower your resistance to diseases and- oh! Your arm!" She'd noticed my makeshift splint.

The next few seconds confirmed my earlier assertions that if the witch we were looking for was in any way dangerous we were dead, because both of us were too busy staring like stunned trout trying to keep up with the babble to stop Sosia as she marched into my personal space and splayed her fingers in a spell. Thankfully for both of us, she also confirmed my suspicions that she wasn't actually hostile in the slightest, as any dangerous witch who starts her fiendish attacks by healing her enemies is clearly too incompetent to deserve the title.

"Mara, thank you," I moaned as a blessed coolness settled over my arm and the everpresent stabbing pain died away.

"Now, there's only so much I can do right now, so make sure to keep that arm in a sling for a while longer," Sosia admonished. "Breaks heal best when you use small spells several times a day - I'd say morning, noon and evening for at least three days for that break. Trying to heal it all at once with a major spell can result in weaknesses in the bone that lead to quicker and worse fractures later on, so it's best avoided."

I blinked at the stream of information, but one thing jumped out at me. "Will potions do as well for the frequent healing?"

Sosia frowned. "In a pinch, I guess, but it's really best to use spells. They can be localized more easily, and-"

"WITCH!"

Apparently Hlormar had noticed Sosia, who squeaked at the sight of an enraged Nord in a red velvet loincloth storming towards her. I groaned. I'd hoped he'd just continue charging ahead ignoring everything behind him until he safely was out of sight.

"Foul deceiver and filthy thief! I shall crush your skull like a-"

"Wait, stop, I mean, can't we talk about this?" Sosia was backing away rapidly.

"I will not negotiate with evil witches!" Hlormar bellowed from a by now uncomfortably close distance. I pondered whether he was trying to burst our eardrums in lieu of proper weaponry.

"Stop this madness!" If he was, Varvur had decided to join him in it. "This woman is clearly not deserving of death, fiend, and if you continue to try to murder her I will stand against you!" He acted on his suicidally-chivalrous speech, one I suspected he'd stolen from a play, by stepping in front of Sosia and me - straight into Hlormar's path.

Hlormar stopped in apparent confusion for a moment, during which I hoped that this turn of events was too much for his walnut-sized brain to cope with and he'd freeze in confusion. Alas, he started moving forward again. "Traitor! I'll crush you with her!"

I shifted nervously from foot to foot as Hlormar squared off with Varvur. True, the way Varvur moved and the way he effortlessly dodged Hlormar's first punch spoke of a trained warrior, but he still looked like a starved child in front of Hlormar's broad frame. If one hit connected, he'd be finished. I was worried I was about to see murder done - in particular, Varvur's, then Sosia's, and finally my own, and with all due respect to altruism that last was one I particularly wanted to prevent - but there was nothing I could do.

Wait.

There _was_ something I could do.

After all, it had been several days now since my encounter with the kagouti, and a certain core of power I'd exhausted then was once again burning brightly within me.

I almost groaned out loud. Falling unconscious is not my idea of a good time, and neither is the fatigue clinging to you afterwards. Well, let no one say I wasn't willing to sacrifice myself for the safety of all.

Varvur and Hlormar were circling now, eyes fixed on each other. Neither of them was paying me the slightest bit of attention. I should probably feel insulted at having been so thoroughly discounted as a threat, but had to admit they'd usually be right in their estimation. Besides, it made it laughably easy to make my way behind Hlormar without him noticing and breaking my neck (I feel the need to point out that I was willing to sacrifice myself in a figurative sense only!)

I focused and tapped Hlormar on the shoulder. He froze obligingly.

Then everything went black.

* * *

><p>"I could have taken him," was the first thing I heard when I woke.<p>

"Varvur, leave her be." Another voice, this. A woman's. "Are you awake now? This is the first time I've ever seen the Mooncalf's Collapse - my teacher, he said it was basically a severe case of magicka-induced exhaustion, but it's not as if you see many of those either and I'm not sure the energising spell I used was strong enough- er, can you hear me?"

I tried to say 'yes, unfortunately', but the only thing that came out of my throat was a groan. Apparently my vocal cords were on tea break. I didn't bother trying to open my eyes. Something about the way each eyelid felt like a Nord was sitting on it made me doubt any attempt would be successful.

I was lying on the ground, I noted fuzzily. Ground. A truly wonderful thing to be lying on - today was giving me a whole new appreciation for it. After our earlier separation, I thought it would be positively ungrateful of me to reduce this joyful reunion in any way. By, for instance, attempting to sit up.

"I'll take that as a 'not strong enough' on the energising spell," the voice said. "Just a moment."

Magicka washed over me in a refreshing flood.

I cracked open one eyelid. Two faces stared down at me. Varvur's face was set in a scowl, while Sosia was beaming. I wasn't entirely certain which I found more threatening.

"Any better?"

"Much." My vocal cords had apparently been spurred back to work by the spell, although judging by the creakiness of my voice there had been a fair bit of grumbling involved.

I grabbed the hand Sosia held down to me with my uninjured arm and used it to gingerly lever myself upright, silently promising the ground that we would be meeting again, at length, as soon as I could manage it. I did have to admit I might renege on that promise if someone offered me a bed.

A quick glance around showed that we seemed to have lost one angry Nord - something I wasn't planning to shed any tears over - and gained one large battleaxe that glimmered with enchantment. Varvur had it tucked into his belt, and the scowl on his face looked just as deep from a vertical position.

"I could have taken him!" he repeated.

"Eh?" My brain was still getting back up to speed.

"The Nord. He had no training in hand-to-hand at all, he was used to winning by being bigger than everyone else. He was slow, obvious, and really wasn't paying attention to his footwork. I was about to-"

I blinked as he continued. I wasn't sure if the things Varvur was saying were actually Tamrielic; I'd certainly never heard of things like an 'outer leg reap' or 'Baranat's wheel' before.

Eventually, Varvur noticed Sosia and me staring blankly and cut off his speech mid-sentence. His scowl deepened. I considered telling him that his face might stick like that, but decided it was unlikely to improve the situation. "I had him! You didn't need to interfere!"

Wait a minute. I couldn't possibly be understanding this correctly.

"You're angry with me for saving all our lives?" I asked blankly.

Judging by his expression, I'd just poured oil on the fire. "I'm not angry with you for saving your lives - our lives were never in danger, because I had him! I'm furious with some, some coward who interferes in an honourable duel, using magic, from _behind_-"

That-

I-

I'd had a really terrible day, and a not insignificant portion of that could be laid directly at this fool's feet, and now he-

All right. That was it.

"Honour? You mean I should have just sat there and waited to see which one of you won in order to satisfy your honour? No thank you. I happen to have this strange thing called 'sense', you see, and I find that vastly preferable to being a muscle-bound idiot with lichen growing where their brain should be who thinks they can solve all their problems by punching them - oh, I'm sorry, to being _honourable_." I tried to pile as much disdain into that last word as I could so Varvur would catch it, seeing as thinking obviously wasn't one of his strong points.

Varvur swelled in a manner vaguely reminiscent of a bullfrog - I wondered if there was some relation. His mouth opened and shut, but the only sound he made was a strange, wordless croaking noise (more evidence for a possible amphibian heritage!) By his side, his hands clenched into fists, lifted-

"What, now you want to attack me?" I asked, incredulous. A tiny voice in the back of my mind mentioned that this was where I should probably back down. It was smothered by rage. "All that spouting off about honour, and now you're going to hit a girl who's unarmed, untrained, recovering from severe exhaustion, and has a _broken arm_? What are you planning to do next, beat up a nine-year-old?"

Varvur lowered his fists, face going an unhealthy-looking shade of purple. The spotted violet Glenumbran marsh toad, perhaps? "Well- well-" he sputtered, "well, if you hadn't bungled that Intervention spell we wouldn't even be in this situation!"

I could hardly believe my ears. "Are you actually complaining? You? The kidnap victim? Please note that however we got here, you are now outside," I gestured at our surroundings, "on the ground, no longer in chains, free to go where you like. If it weren't for me you'd still be in that cell! If anything you should be thanking me on bended-"

"Er, excuse me? Varvur? Adryn?"

I realised with a twinge of guilt that I'd completely forgotten about Sosia. Judging by Varvur's expression, so had he.

"I'm sure you're both enjoying yourselves, but shouldn't we start moving before it gets dark? You can keep arguing once we're walking," she added, in the same tone I suspected she might promise a child some sweets.

Varvur and I glared at each other.

"_Fine,_" we chorused.

* * *

><p>Contrary to Sosia's expectations, Varvur and I didn't continue arguing once we were on the road. Instead, the silence between us was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and I wouldn't have been at all surprised to see a miniature thundercloud pop into existence over one of our heads.<p>

I suspected he was waiting for me to apologise for impugning his honour or something similarly ridiculous. Well, fine. I'd apologise to him right after he apologised to _me_ for being an ungrateful lichen-brained thug with the manners of a donkey. And not just any donkey - a donkey who'd been brought up by wolves (or the donkey equivalent), one who made all the civilised donkeys bray in horror at his lack of manners. As this would most likely be a long wait, I talked to Sosia instead.

Apparently Varvur had struck some sort of deal with Hlormar after I had heroically sacrificed myself to incapitate him. By 'struck', of course, I mean 'told him how it was going to be without letting him get a word in edgewise', because Nine forbid Varvur attempt diplomacy - that would require listening to other people, we couldn't have that. And by 'deal', I mean some sort of absurd arrangement that only someone who'd through some bizarre twist of fate managed to get himself addicted to intelligence-draining potions- ahem, I mean a truly honourable person could have thought of. According to Sosia, it involved Varvur taking Cloudcleaver, then meeting Hlormar in Ald'ruhn in a week or so to see whether he'd 'changed his ways' and 'deserved' to have his family heirloom of sharp-edged death to witches returned (where _witch_ meant _woman who refused to share his bedroll_, according to Sosia's version of that story). This instead of just knocking the man unconscious and stealing the cursed axe already like anyone in possession of even the tiniest amount of sense would do.

Furthermore, it seemed that while I was recovering from my heroic sacrifice, Varvur and Sosia had decided that it would be safest to stick together until we got back to Ald'ruhn. They then got carried away with their newfound power and also agreed that instead of making for Ald'ruhn and arriving in the middle of the night we should make for a nearby farmhouse down in the valley and ask for shelter. I, apparently, was an item on roughly the same level as Cloudcleaver or my books who did not need to be consulted. Why bother asking all of the people you're travelling with what they think, after all.

It was at around this point in time that Sosia's conversation deteriorated remarkably due to her having fits of giggles every time I spoke. I decided to leave her with Varvur as punishment and sped up my pace. I wanted to indulge in my sulk (I'd realised it was a sulk, but at this point I figured I'd earned one) with no mocking bystanders.

As a result, I was well ahead of the other two when I encountered the next Nord.

If you have ever been in King Thian's art collection (for instance, by passing through on an errand that had nothing whatsoever to do with the custom-designed magelights bracketed in solid gold a certain steward with a higher budget than was good for him had bought), you might have spotted a few pieces by Tilenu Neloren, an artist famous for her study of illusions both magical and otherwise. One of her works there is particularly striking - a painting of abstract shapes where you will find your eyes inexorably drawn to one particular point in the upper left corner. It really stuck in my memory, something that might be thanks to intellectual fascination, might be thanks to the fact that I'd been on lookout duty when I spotted it and the resulting narrow escape had been very narrow indeed.

Now, picture this: a hilly, rocky landscape at dusk, all subdued greens, greys and browns. Against this backdrop, pale pink stands out in front of you like a sore thumb. Your eyes automatically snap to focus on it. Then, involuntarily and with growing horror, they travel along a bare, muscular arm, over a hairy chest. From there (no) they find themselves drawn downwards (no!) despite your best efforts (_noo!_). Finally they stop, trapped like a fly in syrup by the sight of a glittering metal cap with furry earflaps held against- held in what I will simply refer to as a _highly strategic place_.

"Thank Kyne!" the Nord called out. "I've been waiting for hours for someone to pass by, almost lost hope. The name's Hisin Deep-Raed, as you can see I'm in need of a little assistance. Would you maybe have a- lass? Are you all right?"

I'd been mostly functioning on definitely-absolutely-no-doubt-about-it righteous anger since Sosia had woken me up from my collapse, and it had just run out. My legs folded underneath me. I sat down on the ground with a heavy thump.

"This isn't happening," I said blankly.

The Nord sounded concerned. He might look concerned, as well, but I still found my gaze transfixed by his... helmet. "Lass? I swear, all I was going to ask was if you might have a pair of trousers to lend me. And, er. Um. Er." A pause. "Perhaps a potion to cure diseases, if you have one. There was this, er, this witch, you see-"

"This isn't happening. I'm hallucinating. Or dreaming. Yes! Why didn't I figure it out earlier? All of this has been a bad dream. I'm going to wake up any moment now."

"Lass?" The fingers on the helm twitched, as though he was thinking of removing them and then thought better of it. "Are you travelling with anyone? I'm afraid I'm a bit... tied up right now..."

"Adryn? What are you- Oh. Er. Hello."

It seemed the figments of my imagination that were Sosia and Varvur had caught up with me. It also seemed my imagination and I needed to have a long, long talk.

"Ah, travellers! Well met, name's Hisin Deep-Raed - er, I think your companion is in need of some-"

"Good gods, man, what happened to your clothes?"

Of course this was a dream. Why hadn't I figured it out earlier? Who doesn't dream of falling?

"Well, y'see, that's a bit of a long story. It started with this witch..."

And the nudity! Why hadn't I clued in then?

"Is he your doing, Sosia?"

"What? No! I'm not the only female mage in the West Gash, you know."

To be fair, that had been a little atypical as nightmares go. Usually, those dreams involve _me_ being naked - in particular, suddenly realising I was in front of a large crowd of people.

"Well, you're the only one I know with a penchant for stripping."

Me fully clothed but everyone around me naked, that was definitely a new one.

"-your _enemies!_ I meant stripping your enemies!"

"...Nord, if you don't stop looking at me that way I may forget my healer's oaths."

Well, my nightmares had branched out. Apparently the dreams involving abject humiliation had decided to follow suit.

"Oh, you're a healer? Thank Kyne! I'd be forever grateful if you helped me out - you see, the witch gave me this, ah, disease-"

"...well, I suppose it's my duty. I'll need to see the primary afflicted area."

There was a long, pregnant pause.

"Ah. I. Are you sure you can't manage without?"

Up until that point, I'd been blocking out the others like the buzzing of some particularly annoying insects. However, the last snatches of conversation managed to penetrate my wall of denial. My eyes - still fixed on a certain area just beneath Hisin's stomach - widened in horrified realisation, then (finally!) squeezed firmly shut.

The darkness was immensely comforting, and made it so much easier to shut away the sound of the other three's raised voices and focus on mentally gibbering. Really, I thought, it would be so nice to just stay like this until I woke up.

As I was going to do any second.

Any moment now.

I felt the increasingly-familiar rush of an energising spell settle around me, and cracked my eyes open.

Sosia's worried face peered back at me. "Adryn? Are you all right?"

"I'm having a nightmare," I informed her.

"Hmm. Hysterics. Perhaps not entirely surprising. A Calm spell, maybe-"

The suggestion cut through my mental fog like Cloudcleaver being wielded by an angry Nord. I bolted upright. "No! No, I- I'm fine! I'm perfectly fine!"

Sosia eyed me dubiously. With a deep breath and mournful acceptance of the fact that this was actually happening, I got myself under control.

"No, really. It was just a momentary lapse. I'm all better now. See?" I gave her a trembling smile. "You should save your magicka, you never know when you'll need it."

Sosia gave me another long, critical look, then shrugged. "Well, if you're sure..."

I opted to take myself out of the danger zone by wandering over to where Varvur and Hisin were conversing. Hisin's posture was far more relaxed than before. A brief glance told me that his helmet was still (again?) serving as a makeshift codpiece, at which point I forced myself to avert my gaze.

"So." Varvur sounded wary. "You say there was a witch involved. Are you going to ask us to hunt her down for you? To recover a family heirloom, perhaps?"

"What? No, I'm well shot of her. And I've still got my heirloom, 's the only thing she left me, see? Although honestly, I'll gladly trade it to you for a pair of trousers-"

"No! Er, that won't be necessary. I wouldn't... I wouldn't dream of depriving a man of his family heirloom," Varvur said, shifting as though to try and hide the enormous battleaxe he was carrying behind his back. "I'd give you some trousers anyway, but I'm afraid I only have this pair and, er..."

We all duly pondered Varvur's suggestion.

"I don't think that would improve the situation," Sosia said delicately from behind me.

"Well, I wouldn't object if one of the ladies were to lend me their shirt instead," Hisin said with a leer in her direction. He wilted under the combined power of all three of our glares.

Then Varvur brightened. He looked as if he'd had an idea. I wondered whether I should be worried. "Adryn? Are you wearing anything under that robe?"

I started upright, fury rekindled. "Excuse me! What kind of a question is that!"

Varvur's eyes widened, apparently only now realising what that had sounded like. "I didn't mean- I only meant- if you could lend him your robe without, er-"

"You just accused me of being a flasher!"

"No, I only-"

"Look, just because I don't buy into your ridiculous notions of honour doesn't mean you get to assume-"

Varvur looked as if he was about to try apologising again. Then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, ridiculous notions of-"

"Two drakes on the lass!"

Apparently our glares weren't as potent without Sosia, as Hisin weathered them undaunted. "What? You're expecting me to bet against a redhead in an argument? Oh - I'm not planning to stiff anyone, promise, I keep some emergency money in my-"

"Don't you all think we should be moving on?" Sosia interrupted hastily. I shot her a look of deep gratitude. I for one had not wanted to hear the end of that sentence.

After some negotiation, poisonous glances shot between Varvur and myself, and careful maneuverings involving my splinted arm which culminated in a disappointed look from Hisin when I proved to everyone that I was, in fact, perfectly decently attired under my robe, Sosia got her wish. Our - well, the addition of Hisin probably qualified it as a party - trudged along towards the farmhouse. This time, I stuck to the rear... although I did hope we'd make it with no further interruptions.

I mean, really. How many naked Nords can one island even hold?

* * *

><p>The owner of the farmhouse, it turned out, was also a Nord. He managed to avoid the fate of being naked, however, by means of that marvelous invention known as <em>clothes<em>. He wore long trousers tucked into calf-high boots. A thigh-length tunic over a long-sleeved shirt. Even a kerchief around his neck! The only skin you could see was his hands and face!

Sjorvar - as he introduced himself - was only briefly taken aback by the troop of mostly underdressed people turning up on his doorstep asking for shelter. He also asked remarkably few questions about how we'd gotten there. Of course, given his glance at Hisin (who'd turned my poor, innocent robe into something that bore an unfortunate resemblance to a diaper), maybe he just didn't want to know. I couldn't blame him.

The house was really more of a shack, with only one room. To mine and Sosia's eternal gratitude, Sjorvar rigged some extra blankets into a separate sleeping alcove for the two of us. To everyone's, he lent the men some of his spare clothing. By the time he brought out two fat loaves of bread and a large bowl of a greasy reddish cheeselike substance that he called 'scuttle', I was ready to swear myself into his service. He professed himself flattered but unable to take me up on my offer, did however accept the drakes Sosia pressed into his hand.

After dinner, Sjorvar took out a bottle of something which he called 'sujamma'. The others accepted his offer of a round of drinks happily. I declined on grounds not drinking alcohol (quite frankly, I accidentally poison myself enough in the course of alchemical investigation that I fail to see the appeal of doing so on purpose) and being relatively certain that if I had to spend much more time in Varvur's direct company somebody would end up maimed and chances were it would be me.

Instead, I withdrew to the bundle of blankets we'd decided were going to be mine. I was tired enough to sleep, but the throbbing of my arm and noise of the others would make that difficult... and frankly, the last thing I wanted to do was lie awake with nothing to do but think back on the events of the day. I was quite looking forward to never thinking about certain of those events again. For instance-

Yes, a little bedtime reading for purpose of distraction was definitely called for. Besides, if I was going to lug half a dozen books through the wilderness, I should at least get some benefit from it. I rummaged through my pack...

My fingers closed on the oiled leather wrapped around _Chronicles of Nchuleft_.

Well, Jobasha _had_ said that I was welcome to read it before I brought it to Edwinna, provided I was careful. I hadn't been planning to take him up on that, but... here in Sjorvar's hut, far away from Vivec, the threat hanging over me seemed very distant and was eclipsed by the lure of a rare book I'd only have access to for a few days.

I settled into my makeshift bed and opened it to the first page.

_ It happened in Second Planting that Lord Ihlendam, on a journey in the Western Uplands, came to Nchuleft..._


End file.
